


My Strange Addiction

by Multifangirl69



Series: The sins of Spider-man [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man Far from Home - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Drama & Romance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forbidden Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Not that prominent, Sexual Confusion, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifangirl69/pseuds/Multifangirl69
Summary: Despite being Teacher/Student and neighbours, Peter Parker and Quentin Beck never grew much of a relationship. But a new school year starts and with that comes new opportunities. A class trip to greece is all it takes for a new friendship to bloom, but a friendship can turn into something more and more can turn you into an addict.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by this beautiful, perfect, cause of my death, amazing vid  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92c7yuNVVOw
> 
> This ship is destroying my life and I can't think about anything else. I swear, Jake Gyllenhaal is gonna kill me someday with his mere existence.
> 
> I don't know how regularly I will update this, I'm not good when it comes to writing long stories, but I will try.  
> Obviously, comments are a great way to motivate me. I take both compliments and critism with open arms, I know I'm not the best writer and I'm always eager to improve!
> 
> Side Information, May is not gonna be nice in this one.  
> The title is from Billie Eilish - My strange addiction, because I think it's a perfect song for this ship and another inspiration for this fanfic  
> Playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D

When Peter awoke to the warm sunray stroking his face, it took a moment for him to realize something was off. First he wondered why it was already so bright outside. Usually it was just starting to dawn when he wakes up for school.

School. He had school. Vaguely he remembered setting his alarm the night before. Did he?

Every muscle was straining against waking up and a groan slipped past his lips as he opened his eyes. Taking in the dust dancing in the soft light soothed him though and Peter managed to sit up despite missing the motivation.

Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right.

His fingers found his phone on the nightstand, his eyes focusing on the screen through the lingering vision blur. 8:20. 

It was like someone pushed a button. In a second, Peter was up on his feet and running to the bathroom. In new record time he went through every essential task. Brushing his teeth, fixing his bed hair, getting dressed and finding his backpack under the kitchen table, where he had carelessly dropped it yesterday. Breakfast wasn't that important anyway.

Aunt May wasn't home. Of course. She was probably with some man. For a moment Peter wished she would actually care enough to come home. Maybe he wouldn't be late now.

But as quick as that thought came, he had already pushed it aside again, somewhere dark where he didn't need to see it.

He stumbled through the door, barely remembering his keys. And like the universe wasn't already punishing enough, the door of the flat opposite of his opened as well and a familiar face stopped him just he was about to bolt down the stairs like some maniac.

"Good morning, Peter," Quentin Beck greeted, similiarly surprised to the boy staggering in front of him. But swiftly his demeanor slipped into something close to confusion.

"Shouldn't you already be at school?"

Peter just starred at him, the situation only slowly sinking in through the panic nagging from before. Like the whole situation wasn't already awful enough. Now he could listen to a teacher lecture before even arriving at school. Wasn't it just fun to have your teacher as a neighbour?

Not that he hated Beck. No, it was quite the opposite.

Contrary to everything Peter expected, the man smiled. And oh god, Peter suddenly felt like dying for a whole different reason.

"You know what? I give you a ride AND an excuse for being late," Beck said, finally breaking the awkward silence.

"Ehh, what?" Peter took a deep breath, feeling like he hadn't for too long. Did he hear right? Maybe he was still sleeping. Of course, Beck is the coolest teacher and popular with the students, for more reasons than just being a chill dude. Still, usually they didn't say much besides hello to each other in the house floor, despite being neighbours for years.

"If you don't want to..." Beck drawled, turning towards the stairs. The ice broke and Peter moved, almost tripping down the stairs.

"No! Please, I'm never late! I can't start now!" The words dropped faster than he could think. He really didn't want to taint his perfect record. May would just act like she cares.

Beck glanced at him, his brows furrowing like he was seriously considering this whole offer again. It was obviously just to irritate Peter further. Because with an amused huff his face relaxed back into a smile and he gave a small head nod towards the stairs. Relief was the only thing Peter could feel as he followed his teacher out the building towards the line of parked cars.

Not only was he getting a metaphorical get out of jail card, but he also got to spend some time with Quentin Beck. Just the two of them. All just to finally get to know his neighbour a little better. Nothing more.  
Peter did wonder how long he can tell himself that before he goes crazy.

The sun was relentless outside, burning the stone underneath enough to make him feel the heat even through his shoes. At least inside Becks car it was bearable. Even without the air conditioner Peter didn't feel like he was cooked raw.

Letting out a deep sigh, he watched his teacher start the car. A small figure of a cat was bouncing at the keychain. Peter couldn't help a laugh, hushed immidiately by Beck glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You have a nice car," Peter quickly said, hoping that will drop the unspoken question on the mans lips. And it wasn't a lie anyway. It was a nice car. A new one. Just last week Beck had been driving a different car.

"Thanks. I saved up some money over the years and finally had enough for this beauty." With a faintly fond smile, Beck patted the wheel, earning him another laugh from his student.

"Sorry..." Peter coughed, dropping his gaze to his bag between his legs. From the corner of his eye he could see the man shaking his head, but keeping that same soft smile. It did things to Peter he really didn't want to think about.

To keep his mind busy he pulled out his phone, now noticing a text from Ned. Of course he was asking about Peters whereabouts and also noted that Betty mentioned something important will be announced today. Hopefully he hadn't missed it yet.

"Why are you late anyway?" The sudden question pulled Peter out of his thoughts and the plan to answer his friend was thrown out the window.

"Honestly, I don't know. I either didn't hear my alarm or I actually forgot to set one," Peter answered, starring down at his phone as if awaiting an explanation from it. A small huff of laughter made him look up again. His heart dropped down and jumped right back up. Beck was looking at him with a delighted smirk.

"Really? Were you distracted last night?" Something sparked in the intense blue eyes with the question, gone too fast to take a real grip on it and Peter was left puzzled.

"No, what could possibly distract me enough that I forget to set my alarm?" He threw back, thoughtfully scratching at the seat material underneath his thighs.

"Many things," Beck laughed, swiftly following up with "Doesn't matter. Be careful that it won't happen again. I can't vouch for you too often."

"Maybe like three time and then it gets weird," Peter replied, swallowing down a chuckle at the realization how that sounded. Before it gets weird. Weird how? Bad idea to think about THAT. Only a small nod came from Beck for that as he got distracted by the school building coming into view.

Peter did feel disappointed he hadn't had more time to talk with his teacher, but reality came knocking and he gave up ignoring it.

The car stopped and for a moment a weirdly comfortable silence settled around them. Peter watched a bird fly past and disappearing between the dark green curtain of a tree. In the windows he could see students move and the dread of confronting his math teacher was settling in his stomach.

Next to him Beck started to move again, turning to grab his bag from the back seat. He pulled out a notebook, ripped out one of the pages and wrote something down. Peter curiously watched him, mostly how the mans fingers wrapped lazily around the pen and the muscles twitching under skin with every bit of movement.

"Here you go. If she has a problem, tell her to come to me after class," Beck said as he held out the paper. A confused stare was returned.

"Your excuse for coming late," he explained, impatiently reaching for the boys hand and placing the paper in his palm. Peters breath hitched at the contact. The long fingers curling around his wrist left a pleasent warmth, but the smile Beck gave him, seemed to ignite a whole fire inside him.

And only a second later, Beck backed away again and turned to open his door. Peter let out a long held sigh and shakily followed the mans example. The heat outside almost felt soothing against his burning skin. He could imagine the blush painting his cheeks.

They entered the building in silence, parting with a quick "See you in class" from the man. Only when he was left alone in the hallway did Peter feel like breathing again. 

The voices, coming from the classrooms he walked past, kept his mind from diving deep into the darkest mess of thoughts. When he stopped in front of the room with his classmates inside, he took a moment to actually look at what Beck had wrote.

"He helped me with some stuff, no entry for Mister Parker." Underneath was the mans signature. Very unconventional. Hopefully it's enough.

Peter took a deep breath and knocked, following it up by opening the door immidiately. Uncomfortable silence fell over the class and everyone starred at him. Some, mainly Flash, with amusement and other, like Ned, with confusion. The teacher had a mixture of both.

"Ah and here I was worried for a second, Mister Parker," she drawled, glaring at him with anger both from being interrupted like that and him being late.

"I'm sorry, I helped Mister Beck..." Peter mumbled, eyes fixated on the piece of paper he offered to her. Miss Tern eyed it with something close to suspicion, like it was going to explode if she touches it. But after a lingering hesitation, she did take it and shook her head with a scoff.

"Fine. Go sit down and ask your classmates about what we did," she said in defeat, turning back to the blackboard she was writing some calculations on.

Quietly Peter moved to his desk in the back, giving Ned a small smile. He was expecting immidiate questioning, but surprisingly the other boy kept quiet and only glanced at his friend with contained curiosity.

The lesson went on for only like another ten minutes before the bell rang, but with the itching need to tell Ned everything, it felt like ten hours instead.

They sat down outside and both exploded at the same time.

"Where were you this morning?"

"You won't believe what happened!"

They laughed, ignoring the weird looks other students gave them.

"My alarm didn't go off this morning," Peter explained, not sure he really regret forgetting to set it. Not after that car ride, as awkward as it was. Outside of lessons, this was the longest conversation they had. Sad, considering they technically known each other for years. But he only had Beck as a teacher since last year and only twice a week. Maybe this year will change it all.

"Bad, but she let you off easy," Ned returned, relief and confusion dripping with the words.

"Because I helped Mister Beck."

"He wrote the note you gave her, right?" Neds eyes widened and his interest only grew with the new information. "But you said you overslept."

"I did. Mister Beck gave me a ride to school and lied for me," Peter explained, crossing his arms and tilting his head like he was announcing his greatest archievement in life. It kinda was, having a teacher lie on his behalf.

 _He lied for me_ , that sounds too good in his head.

"He did? Damn, that's so cool! I mean, I expected nothing else from Mister Beck," Ned exclaimed, patting Peter on the back to congratulate him on this archievement. Both turned when Bettys voice echoed their way, chirping her boyfriends name like they haven't seen each other for years and not like five minutes ago.

"Babe, I brought cookies! Do you want some?" she asked, already searching her bag for them.

"Of course, babe." Ned leaned over to her, pulling open the bag to make it easier for her to. She gave him an appreciative look and a quick peck on the lips. From the side, Peter avoided watching their cutesy display of affection. He was happy for his friend, but couldn't help the feeling of being left out.

As his eyes searched for anything else to watch, they stopped at the familiar figure of Mister Beck. He could only see the mans back, definitely a view to be appreciated with the strong muscles teasingly moving underneath the neat, green sweater. As he shifted a little to the side, Peter also noticed Miss Tern, standing in front of Beck and nodding along to whatever he was talking about.

She smiled and giggled coyly behind perfectly manicured fingernails, he could only imagine how hard she was trying to make her laugh sound cute. Her blond curls bounced on her shoulders as she turned to walk, the man closely following behind. Peter caught a glimpse of Becks face and the smile behind the trimmed beard. Somehow it felt off, nothing like the one he gave Peter this morning in the car.

 _Yes, just for me_. It sounds so good in his head.

The thought soothed the stabbing pain in his chest. It eased the boiling heat in his guts when watching Miss Tern wrap her long fingers around Beckss wrist and holding onto it a moment to long after giving him _something_.

"Yo, earth to Peter, you want a cookie?" Neds voice, suddenly so close, pulled his attention away from the pair. 

Too fast, but maybe it was better he stopped watching them.

He glanced at the held out plastic, beautifully decorated with pink flowers and filled with bite sized cookies. With a swift handmove he declined, smiling at Ned until he turned back to his girlfriend. Peters attention was immidiately back on the spot where he last seen Beck and Miss Tern. Gone. Of course.

But he couldn't shake off the aching in his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who left a comment. You are all so sweet and kind and I shit you not, I almost cried when I read them. (I just never gotten this much attention for a fanfic in such a short time)  
> Lots of hearts to everyone reading this (´ ▽｀).。ｏ♡
> 
> Quick sidenote, I have no idea how american school works. I'm basically bullshitting my way through this with my limited knowledge from american movies and my own school experience (despite german schools being very different). You can imagine me sweatingly looking up every little information on google.
> 
> Also, I haven't mentioned it yet, but Peter is 16 and Quentin is around 30  
> 

Betty mentioned again something about an announcement. As the class president she was involved a lot earlier than the rest of the class with everything related to them and it almost slipped what exactly it was as she kept on babbling. Only the bell silenced her, but Peter was actually disappointed this time. He was intrigued, to say the least.

All answers came along later that day during chemistry. At this point, everyone knew something was coming and because it was almost the last period of the day, the classes patience was wearing thin. A faint anxiety was coming with it and a few students had started to speculate.

A new student. A new teacher. A trip. An exam, in the worst case possible. You name it. Peter even overheard one person insisting, that the famous Tony Stark himself was going to visit. He almost asked where they got this from, but the classroom door opening was all it took to let all the exciting chatter die.

"I've never seen you guys this quiet," Beck laughed, taking in the expecting faces. His eyes lingered a moment longer on Peter and the boy remembered his plan to stay after the lesson to thank his teacher properly.

"I guess someone talked a bit too much, but you have to wait until the end. First we have to discuss what new topics will await you this year." A collective groan echoed through the classroom and the grin on Becks face only grew wider.

Peter shifted in his seat, biting his tongue and silencing whatever thought was crawling its way from the depths as the man pushed up his sleeves. Puberty was a mistake.

Beck turned and wrote down the numbers 1 to 5 in a vertical line. Behind him a few students went back to talking, this time only in hushed voices. Not that it actually helped to not be heard. Everyone could still clearly pick up how the girls were gushing over the teachers green sweater. Like it was the sexiest garment ever made.

Peter agreed, but still, couldn't they wait until after class?

Done with writing the numbers, Beck turned back, only giving the girls a warning glance. He asked if anyone had an idea what topics will be discussed. Peter was quick to raise his hand and earned weird looks from his classmates when he gave one right answer.

"Yes, good," Beck praised. Holding back a giggly excitement, Peter swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry. 

He wasn't going to admit that he already looked up what will be subject this school year and kept quiet for the rest. With a faint smile curling his lips, he just watched his teacher, occasionally appreciating little things only noticed because every sense was focused solely on Beck. 

Thoughful humming when listening to the other students suggestions. Tongue dipping out just enough to leave the red lips wet before Beck spoke. Small twitches of his eyes and mouth, almost like he was holding back a laugh with every wrong answer. Long fingers scratching along the beard and leaving white chalk dust on chocolate brown.

As the last topic was done written down, Peter looked around at the other students. A few faces showed signs of confusion. One girl was starring at the blackboard like she was reading an alien language. Others had obviously given up following and gave in to the urge to look out the window or the walls or anything, but the blackboard really.

Ned and Betty skipped through the chemistry book, probably trying to get an idea what this was all about. Peters gaze stopped at Michelle, who was scribbling in a notebook. Like knowing she was being watched, she looked up. Her eyes thinned and she tilted her head, silently asking Peter what he wants. With a small smile he starred a moment longer before turning around again.

"You should all take a good look in your textbook. This isn't going to be easy," Beck said, placing the chalk down on his desk and wiping off the remaining dust. He starred down on his hands with a frown, the white a sharp contrast to his tanned skin.

"Well, that's it for now. You survived, now we can talk about whats actually important," Beck continued, voice dripping with sarcasm and lips twitching into a smirk. That got everyones attention. Silence befall the class like someone pushed the mute button and only a deep sigh from Beck got through.

"Basically, your class gets a one week trip to greece-" Surprised whispers hushing through the room stopped him and it took a long moment before Beck was able to continue.

"Be thankful to your classmates from the decathlon team. It's a reward for their victory last year." Beck vaguely gestured towards the tables where the mentioned students sit. Peters eyes widened and he turned to look at Ned, who starred back with equal exhilaration. From the corner of his mind he could see even Michelle looking surprised.

"Shouldn't that trip only be for the decathlon team then?" Flash asked, holding up his hand for the teacher to notice him.

"Yes, but Mister Harrington decided it would be stupid if only a few of you leave and the rest has their regular lessons. The decathlon team would just miss everything and that's not the point of the trip," Beck explained. Flash opened his mouth to say more, but instead only dropped his hand in defeat.

"Any other questions?" Everyone looked at each other expectantly, Beck letting his eyes observe every student. They stopped at Peter, who could feel his throat tighten. There was something about the way the man was looking at him. Something raw. Something he couldn't quite grasp.

"Alright. If there are no more questions, I'm gonna give you a paper with all the information. The time, what you should pack and the rules." Beck walked around his desk, grabbing a printed stack of papers in the process. As he walked around the class, giving each student one page, he summed up what was written on them.

"We're gonna stay in a holiday home. 5 rooms for you, so you're gonna split into two girl groups and three boy groups. Talk to each other and decide for yourself how to group. Obviously, no drugs, legal or illegal. No outside person allowed. No one leaves the house alone, only in a group of at least two. Someone has to make a list with anyone who has some kind of allergy or other illness that could cause problems. Betty, would you be so kind?"

At the mention of her name, she looked up from the paper in her hands and gave a quick nod.

"Me and Mister Harrington are gonna be the only adults there, we can't watch everyone. Obviously, report anything notable, but don't be a snitch. What we didn't see, didn't happen," He continued. A few students chuckled at his words and Peter could see in their faces how they were already working out a plan to get alcohol. But his own mind was busy taking in the teachers words, mostly just his voice, pure honey in Peters ears. He swallowed the sweet taste it left when Beck stopped at his desk and returned the ocean blue gaze.

Peter chocked on the oppressive feeling of drowning. Beck most likely noticed the small reaction. His gaze lingered a moment longer on the boy as he continued his way to the next desk.

"But I don't wanna hear about one of you girls being pregnant after the trip," Beck added, face twisting rather serious, but his tone dripping with amusement. Three girls in the front giggled, their eyes gazing up and down the teacher. Peter dismissed them with a shake of his head. Girls, he will never understand them. Crushing so obvious on a teacher. They had probably immidiately thought about hooking up with Beck when he said that. Crazy.

Not that Peter could really disagree.

"That's it for now. You will get some more information next week about the place we're staying at and what you can do." With that, Beck stopped behind his desk again. He gave the students a moment to take in everything and another chance to ask questions. One of the girls asked if they had to pay in any way, but obviously no. Only for their stay, if they want to do anything outside the inclusive activities. Ned and Betty whispered something about going to a restaurant.

The class was dismissed with another reminder to take a look into their textbooks. Not that anyone was really listening. Everyone was talking and already planning for the trip. The sound of chatter, moving chairs and shoes squeaking on the ground overpowered whatever Beck was saying next. Something along the lines of "Have a nice day".

Peter was extra slow with packing his stuff. He was really taking his time to neatly fold the paper and find a place between his books and other stuff, where it wouldn't crumble. Ned was busy talking to Betty and just left the classroom without offering to wait.

Good, Peter thought, ignoring that he was actually quite hurt from being forgotten like that. Michelle glanced at him as she passed, but dropped her gaze as soon as the boy looked back at her.

The last student rushed out the door. Peter ambled closely behind, but stopped right as the door fell back into it's lock. He turned on his heel and faced Beck, who had stood up from his desk and starred down at his student with expecting patience.

Peter became aware how much bigger Beck is. Not just height, he was maybe a head taller. No, it was mostly the broad upper body and muscles that made Peter feel small in comparison.

His breath hitched as he opened his mouth to speak. Curiously, his eyes traveled along the lines of the mans chest, up to his throat where he noticed Becks adams apple bopping with every exhale, just enough to be noticed. Again, the mans tongue dipped out just a bit, leaving a faint glistening layer on the red lips. There was still chalk dust stuck to the beard.

Peter closed his mouth again when he starred right into the deep blue sea again.

"Do you have a question?" Beck asked, his gaze intense. Piercing. Peter felt so bare suddenly, like the man knew everything.

"No. I wanted to thank you. I would be dead without your help." His voice was shaking and the stuttering even surprised himself. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes dropping to the floor as he was no longer able to hold the intense stare.

"So...thank you..."

"No need to thank me, really," Beck huffed, his face softening with the slightest hint of a smile.

"I do! I mean, that was..." Peter took a step back and lifted his head again, swallowing down the shaking tone, "I don't even get why you did that, considering you're my teacher."

"Mh, I was just in a good mood this morning," Beck replied, scratching along his chin like he was pondering himself the why.

"If you want, I can also drive you home. It's on the way," the man continued, laughing about his own joke. So close, Peter could really see the way his chest heaved with the laugh rumbling through his body. He practically felt the tremor against his fingertips.

"Are you sure? Isn't that a bit too much to ask?" Peter returned, unconsciously taking another small step back. Beck smile grew and the boys grip tightened around his bag strap.

"Why would it? I honestly feel bad whenever I drive past you on the way home." Every last bit of the mans serious edge smoothed, leaving only a fond smile of pure honesty.

Peter exhaled a deep breath, lungs burning and head spinning with nauseating heat crawling under his skin. He took a moment to look around the room, as if he was expecting a hidden camera somewhere or suddenly waking up to the sound of his alarm. His eyes wandered back to Becks face and Peter shifted his hands to subtly pinch his arm.

No, this was definitely real.

"I can't really say no to my teacher, can I?" Peter croaked, mimicking the mans smile with only a small success of hiding his nervousness. Another subtle pinch in his arm. Still real.

"Great! I see you after class," Beck beamed.

After another awkward moment of silence and starring, Peter turned with a small nod, forcing his legs to move. Only when he was sure his teacher didn't see him anymore, did he breath properly again. He felt like someone had just pulled him out of the water and with every inhale, his throat strained against the swallowed air.

Just one more lesson and he would sit in Quentin Becks car again, talking and laughing with the man, just appreciating everything about him in close up. Hopefully he wasn't going to make it awkward again. How was he going to survive the next hour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everytime I'm writing Peter appreciating Quentin it's also me appreciating Jake Gyllenhaal (I swear, this man is killing me)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ ) You're all killing me with your comments! Everyone is too nice, but for the first time I'm 100% motivated to write a long fanfiction. I can't thank you guys enough for the support!!!!  
> @Neva_Flows comment "Peter be like “lmao bitches be thirsty... wait, I’M bitches.”" basically sums up Peters entire character in this fic XD  
> And @myialeighanne, I feel you, everyone always says they like slow burn and then like two chapters in you're already yelling at the screen because they haven't kissed yet  
> Speaking of, I see you all hoping they fuck in greece, but spoiler alert, they won't. The trip to greece is all about establishing an actual friendship between them, buuuuut it's still gonna be spicy (mainly because of Quentin being the hot piece of garbage that he is and Peter being a hormonal teenager)  
> AND PLEASE REMEMBER, May isn't a good person in this one. And Ned is problematic too.
> 
> Stupid sidenote, my mind already came up with another idea for a fanfic; An actor AU with Peter being a newbie in hollywood. In his first big movie, he works along side the famous actor Tony Stark and also meets Quentin, who is technician. Basically a shameless erotic romance about Peter being seduced by both Tony and Quentin ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I mainly like the idea, because it would be so meta... Either someone else writes this or I'm going to when I finished this mess!  
> Also, I see all of you being horny for Jack. It's kinda funny actually. I'm almost 20 and my greatest archievement in life is that I was never ever obsessed with a celebrity. But after watching FFH and watching too many interviews with Jake Gyllenhaal...it's though staying clean. I swear, just a little bit more and I end up binge watching every movie he acted in.

Somehow Peter survived the anticipation. It might have been the first time he didn't listen to one word the teacher said. This time Ned waited for him, mostly likely because Betty had to leave early, but he liked to think Ned still had some care for his friend.

Michelle walked with the two. Since the big decathlon tournament she had become something like a friend. She was still a big mystery to Peter though, the only thing he really knew about her was her love for true crime and that she has a similiar humor to him, maybe a bit darker.

"Do you guys know who you wanna share a room with?" Michelle asked as they left the classroom, watching the boys intently. Completely lost, because of course he hasn't thought about that yet, due to...circumstances, Peter turned his attention to Ned.

"We're probably grouping with the other guys from the decathlon team," came as the answer, Ned looking just as lost as his friend.

"Right. Losers have to stick together, right?" Michelle joked, laughing at the faces they gave her.

"Wow, rude," Peter remarked, earning him another chortle from the girl. It was weird. Despite making jokes all the time, he rarely gets to hear her laugh, but it was oddly charming how her eyes sparkled with glee and her brown curls bounced on her shoulders. She was pretty. Smart. Funny. If Peter wasn't so occupied with other things, he would consider asking her out.

But just as that thought got the chance to bloom, it withered away just as quick when Quentin Beck came into view. Through the window, Peter could see the mans back, at least the part that wasn't hidden by the car he was leaning against. Smoke danced above his head, the grey quickly disappearing in the blinding sunshine.

Was he really waiting?

"I only have Betty. The other girls are gonna be horrible to share a room with." Michelles voice pulled Peters attention back to the conversation.

"We're gonna be outside most of the time anyway and if it gets too much, you can hang out in our room," Ned offered, looking at Peter with a quick "Right?". Only a small nod came back and the slightest hint of concern twisted Neds face.

"If we're allowed, I heard about teachers who don't allow girls to visit the boys room and vice versa." Michelles answer was enough to stop this faint worry growing into something more severe.

"It's a school trip. We have to break rules somehow," Peter laughed. He quietly thanked the girl and returned the smile she gave him.

"Feeling rebellious, huh?" 

That comment made Ned laugh too and whatever concern fleeted through his mind was dropped. Even if Peter wondered what made his friend suddenly so worried, he really didn't want to deal with it right now. At this moment he was busy keeping his walking speed at a normal rate and not run out the building to get to Beck as soon as possible.

He even kept his excitement down when he opened the big entrance door and his eyes fell on his teacher still standing there in the parking lot.

Maybe it was the sudden anxiety, but the hot air outside felt oppressing. The heat crawled up his spine like dread and breathing became difficult. Peter was proud of himself for not showing how he felt like he was about to faint.

"Honestly, I just want to enjoy the first trip with my girlfriend," Ned said, his words not quite enough to cut through Peters wandering thoughts. But definitely enough to leave a cold sensation in his chest.

"I'm gonna go man, Mister Beck offered me to drive me home," Peter simply exclaimed, pointing over his shoulder in the general direction of the parking lot. His friends gaze followed and his eyes widened in surprise.

"No way! You're so lucky. I wish I had a teacher as a neighbor."

"He's your neighbor?" Michelle gave Peter this look dripping with suspicion again. That always meant she was trying to decipher if there is more to it. Honestly, he had to give her this one. It was strange that a teacher would drive a student home, but if she asks, he can always tell her that Beck is an old friend of the family. Or something like that. Something to figure out later.

"Yeah, it's not that great actually. I'll see you guys." And with that, Peter turned and strutted over to Becks car. With his excitement still contained, he managed to be fairly casual in his approach. Not that Beck actually seemed to notice him.

Nope, he really didn't notice Peter. As the boy circled the car, he first notice that the mans eyes were closed. His head hung back and more smoke escaped through his half open mouth, clearing into nothingness as it drifted away. Beck lifted his hand one hand and opened his eyes for a moment.

Peter was in trance as he watched how the man took the cigarette between his lips, some of the white burning away at the tip. Becks face twisted in disgust as more smoke filled his lungs, his adams apple bopping like crazy with the deep inhale and the following exhale turning into a cough.

As Peter took another step forward, the blue eyes immidiately lifted from the half smoked cigarette and a smile soothed the frown.

"Ah, there you are." Beck placed the cigarette back between his lips, leaving it hanging loosely. It threatened to fall as the man turned and opened the door to the passenger seat, but soon enough, it was back held between the mans long fingers.

"Sit down and give me a moment," he said, his voice patient, but there was a clear demand. Peter obeyed, avoiding the intense gaze lingering on him as he dropped onto the car seat. As soon as his second leg was also inside, the door closed and he could see Beck going around to the other side, but staying outside just a bit longer.

It only worsened Peters anxiety. He clutched his bag to his chest and played with a loose thread hanging from the side of the zipper to distract himself. This was more agonizing than having to speak in front of the class. He blamed the heat.

Finally the door to the driver seat opened, releasing at least some of the tension. Beck dropped onto the leather with a deep sigh, more warmth rushing into the car before the door closed again. A bitter scent wavered in the air and Peter couldn't help the frown. Even if Beck made smoking look hot, the smell was terrible. 

"I can open the window if it's too much," Beck offered, glancing at Peter and giving him an apologetic smile.

"No, it's fine. I'm gonna live," the boy laughed, pushing his bag down between his legs. For a moment Beck remained still, one hand holding the car key and the other gripping the stirring wheel. His eyes searched Peters face, as if trying to find anything that might contradict what he said, but came up empty.

Peter held back a noise of relief when the intense gaze dropped back on the keychain with the little cat figure.

"I'm wondering," Peter started when the car left the school ground and followed the fairly empty road away, "why are you coming along on the trip to greece?"

Beck huffed.

"Mister Dell was supposed to join Mister Harrington on the trip, but had to cancel due to personal reasons. Obviously Mister Harrington needed someone else and I volunteered. Greece is beautiful and I don't have many classes anyway, so I won't be missed that much," he explained with only occasionally glancing at the boy. It was difficult to keep his eyes on the road.

"Ever went there before?" Peter continued, feeling a lot bolder than during the morning car ride. Every bit of information was important. God, he felt like a stalker. At least he would never look up his teachers social media. That made it better. Maybe.

"Nope, but I heard good things. The beach, we go to, is supposed to be really beautiful." A beach, huh? What a turn of events.

"Everyones gonna be thrilled when they hear about the beach," Peter assured, watching Beck concentrating. From time to time his fingers strained around the wheel. At a red light he adjusted his posture, one finger tapping impatiently. For a moment he looked back at Peter and smiled again.

"Do you like beaches?" Beck asked, almost missing the jumping lights with his misplaced concentration.

"Never been to one," Peter admitted. Only a lake that one time with Neds family. He remembered the water was icy cold and a lot of fish.

"Really? But you can swim, right?" At that joke, Peter softly punched the man against his arm, eliciting a laugh. For only a moment he could feel the vibrations from it.

"Can you?" Another laugh and another glance. Peter noted that he felt more relaxed, practically melting into his seat with every word Beck spoke. His voice so low, relaxed, dripping sweet in Peters ears.

"And here I thought you and your Aunt go on vacation a lot. She seems like a very adventurous woman." That comment made Peter swallow a groan. It almost ruined the good feeling. Almost, because he couldn't blame Beck for mentioning May so casually.

"You could say that..." he mumbled. Adventurous wasn't quite the word he would use, but hooking up with man after man after man was certainly daring.

As if sensing that Peter was uncomfortable, Beck dropped the topic and instead started to ask about the decathlon team and everything related to the tournament last year. The rest of the car ride went by with lots of talking, mostly lighthearted jokes. Out of sheer luck, Peter found out about the mans last relationship. Appearently a very messy break up about 6 months ago. The embarassing price to pay was admitting that he never had a relationship before.

It was worth it though.

Peter felt obviously disappointed when Beck stopped the car in front of their home. He wanted this to last a little bit longer. But he gave up and accepted the painful defeat, leaving the car only a moment after his teacher. Quietly they entered the building and went up the stairs, Peter not aware of Becks starring as he walked in front of the man.

They departed with a quick goodbye. 

Peter immidiately wished he could go back when the heavy smell of alcohol hit as soon as the door closed behind him. He could make out soft noises from the kitchen and with the intention of just ignoring his Aunt, he took a quick beeline towards his bedroom.

"Ah, Peter! You're home!" His hand clenched around the doorknob and with a deep breath, he turned where Mays head peeked out the room. The slur in her words didn't go past him.

"Yeah, I'm back," he confirmed with a steady grip on the metal knob, ready to get inside and drop dead on his bed. Of course his Aunt had other plans and waved her nephew to the kitchen. With a last glance at his bedroom door, he followed the invitation.

"I ordered pizza for us." May staggered over to the kitchen counter. Peter frowned as the smell of alcohol grew stronger, crawling up his nose and leaving him feel sick. Revolted, almost.

It wasn't the bitterness, but watching his Aunt sway with every step like she was too close to falling over and hearing the occasional hiccup. He almost didn't watch her taking another sip from the wine glass. Rich red liquid, just seeing it left a bittersweet taste on his tongue.

"Your favorite," she added as she opened one of the pizza boxes. Peter stepped closer to inspect the food. Olives. That wasn't his favorite, but Uncle Bens. He still remembers how Ben always hummed happily extra loud when eating, just to annoy Peter for complaining how disgusting Olives are.

"Thanks..." he said anyway. Making them vanish in his trashcan wasn't that difficult, but starting another argument was. Like always, he accepted how little May thought about what she was doing. At least this time she remembered to get Peter something to eat too.

With no word, he took the box, frowning at how cold it already was. But right as he was about to leave the kitchen, May stopped him by calling out his name.

"I'm gonna have company later, so, grab what you need and don't leave your room unless you really have to pee," she instructed with the most innocent smile.

Surprising, it was rare the men come to her. Because of Peter, she always insisted. But even that wasn't that big enough of a deal to not scream and moan at the top of her lungs when he was literally in the other room.

He starred at her in disbelief and like she wasn't sure he had understood, she pointed at the fridge. The expecting look on her face was infuriating. But Peter didn't want to destroy the last bit of good mood he had left and just grabbed a bottle of water.

At least he had functioning headphones this time and if he turns his volume high enough he won't hear anything. And maybe destroy his hearing forever, so he never had to hear May ever again.

And when he layed in bed later, blanket covering him despite it making him sweat like crazy and music blasting in his ear, Peter could at least imagine something better. Something from before Uncle Ben died. When May didn't drown herself in alcohol. Back when May was happy with her husband and didn't have a different man every week.

He was definitely looking forward to the trip to greece. A few days in peace. Only him, his friend and Quentin Beck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
> Nobody:  
> Literally no one the world:  
> Jake Gyllenhaal: (⊙_⊙)
> 
> I'm sorry, I just think his facial expressions are hilarious


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is too fucking nice in the comments! It really helps with my self confidence :'3  
> I'm sorry for not responding to every comment, I just don't know how to handle them most of the times. They feel me with so much joy and you will all make me cry! ❤⃛❤⃛❤⃛
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for teasing y'all so much! Slow burn is torture and honestly, I feel tortured myself writing this.
> 
> Update on my thirst for Jake Gyllenhaal: He is now my phone background. That means it's getting more severe and I appreciate any kind of help D':

Two more weeks went by. At some point the class had calmed down and the topic of greece was dropped. Only on the last friday, when Mister Harrington went through everything important for the final time, did the conversation pick up where it had left off. A small group of three guys made a bet right after that lesson, who can get the most numbers and one even proclaimed he will definitely get laid.

All Peter could think about was Quentin Beck in nothing but swimming shorts. One time during last summer he had already seen the man without a shirt when May went to ask him for milk and he answered the door with only lose hanging sweatpants on. Unfortunately he couldn't just stand behind his aunt and stare like a creep. So it was only a fleeting moment of joy.

But to actually get more, he had to wait. Right now, on a sunday evening, he was standing in front of the school with the rest of his class, the bus already ready to take off. But Mister Harrington insisted on inspect every students suitcase and bag. With a lot less enthusiasm, Beck helped.

"Do they really think we bring the alcohol from home?" one guy mumbled behind Peter, his friend shaking his head with the same disbelief, but both shut up when Beck turned his attention towards them. Quietly they endured the teachers inspection and as soon as he was done, they rushed over to the rest who already through it all.

Peter was glad they all kept to themselves with their attention and didn't watch the teachers. The girls who usually observe his every move, were still busy letting Mister Harrington check their stuff.

"What are you gonna do if you find something bad in my suitcase?" Peter asked with a smirk, watching Beck kneel and open the zipper. He gave the boy a wary look.

"I have to exclude you from the trip," he replied. With all his best acting skill, Peter put on a pout and swayed from one foot to the other.

"And I was so excited for it. Maybe I shouldn't have brought a whole wine bottle." It was hard to keep a straight face with how Beck was starring at him. Like the man knew it was a joke, but still quite unsure if maybe there was a possibility it wasn't.

Peter bit his lip as he couldn't hold back a smile, Becks focus already back on the suitcase. He carefully went through it, making sure not to mess everything up. He stilled for a moment when seeing the underwear. Peters grin dropped, he could practically feel the blood rushing into his face and leaving him deep red. Maybe he shouldn't have packed the briefs with the pink bears.

 _I swear, it was for a joke,_ Peter thought when Beck grinned up at him.

At least he didn't say anything. It was already bad enough. With a quick "Seems fine" he dropped the suitcase top and closed the zipper. The amusement stuck on the mans face a little longer and Peter wished he would just die right on the spot.

The bus drive to the airport went by fairly quiet. The students in the last row started singing some stupid traveling song from like second grade and Peter wasn't sure if Mister Harrington was impressed or annoyed. Or both. When they started it a second time, he stopped them though.

Because Ned was sharing the seat with Betty, Peter was stuck with Michelle. Not the worst thing, but due to a rather bad mood, she wasn't very talkative. She promised to tell him later why and he left her alone.

So instead of talking, he kept himself busy with a game on his phone. Occasionally he glanced up to watch the other students. Some were sleeping, others talked or watched their phone. Flash was streaming everything from the front row the entire time.

Beck seemed to be asleep as well. At least it looked like it from Peters position. The mans head dropped back at the seat, eyes closed and the only movement his chest gently moving up and down. He looked so...serene. A strange way to describe it, but with the way Peter got entranced by the view, it felt fitting.

"Sorry for being so rude," Michelle said after stepping out the bus. For a moment Peter starred at her in confusion.

"Oh! Don't worry about it. Sometimes you just don't wanna talk, I get it," he replied with a smile, earning a smaller one from the girl. Their eyes were locked onto each other a moment longer before Mister Harringtons voice pulled their attention away from each other.

They found Ned and Betty. Michelle listened to the blond complain about the two girls, who sat behind the couple. Appearently they didn't stop talking how they imagine their dream summer affair. So everyone, boys and girls, seemed to plan getting laid during this trip.

Why was Peters attention going back to Beck at that thought?

In the plane, he sat between Ned and Michelle, Betty happily taking the seat next to the window. The couple started watching a movie with shared headphones and Michelle took the oppurtinity of them being distracted to finally talk to Peter.

"My mom almost didn't let me go on the trip, because it's so far away and who knows what could happen. We still argued about it this morning," she explained, leaning a little closer into Peters space, so she didn't had to talk too loud. He watched her from the corner of his eye, taking in her messy curls perfectly framing her face. Her eyes reminded him of watching sun shine through a glass of whiskey. Not a beautiful sight for him as it was for other people.

"Just don't think about it. She can't stop you now," he replied, feeling the her laugh through the seats.

 _What a petty problem,_ Peter thought, aware how much he was sounding like an asshole. But he would actually be happy if May cared enough to think about all the potential bad things. Peter wasn't even sure if she even remembered how he mentioned the trip. Probably not, considering there was no "goodbye" or "have fun" this morning. Or anything at all, really.

"True," Michelle huffed, shifting in her seat and dropping back into the soft material behind.

"I hope this trip was worth the headache," she added quietly, almost as if she was only really saying it to herself. Peter didn't care enough and only returned a small nod.

With the topic leaving a strange oppressive atmosphere between them, they changed the subject to movies. Michelle went on to tell a whole lecture about the bad representation of women in action movies. It was actually interesting and at least this gave Peter an opportunity to turn off his brain and just listen.

Everyone was equally relieved when they finally got to walk again. Peter didn't wanna know how long that flight was, but due to the time difference it was still in the middle of the day. That really fucked with his mind for a moment. Still enough time to enjoy the beach though.

Excitement filled the humid air inside the second bus they had to sit in. Mister Harrington informed, they have to wait for the teachers to give the go before anyone can leave the house. Annoyance supressed the excitement, but not enough to really ruin the mood.

"It looks nice," Michelle mumbled when the beach came into view. Peter looked up from his phone, following her gaze out the window. From what he could see, she was right. The water seemed clean and the sun was still bright and big above, inviting the students to come enjoy her warmth. The shore was covered by too many towels and parasols, blurring into one colorful line.

Peter dropped his gaze. As pretty as it looked, he really didn't want to go swimming. Being insecure about your body was just another curse that comes with adolescence. At least for some. Besides, Ned is probably gonna be busy with Betty and swimming alone didn't sound fun. He almost asked Michelle, but she probably had better plans too.

And how quiet she was again, was kind of a turn off. He rather stay alone than let her ruin his mood even more.

The house they would stay in was amazing. Beautiful architecture. Obviously it was close to the beach and the tourists were a lot less frequent on this part, at least what he could tell from the big window showing a perfect ocean view. There was also a patio with a big table and even a grill.

Choosing which group will occupy which room was surprisingly easy. The girls decided on the ones upstairs, saying they want to be the first in the big bathroom in the morning. Peters and Neds group took the last room upstairs, the other guys complained it was probably gonna be loud with the girls next door. But compared to staying downstairs, where the teachers had their room, it felt like the better option.

It mostly likely went so smoothly, because everyone was already on edge and ready to enjoy the much anticipated beach.

Mister Harrington tried to keep the students under control, but after ten minutes he gave up and just let them go. Peter and Michelle were the only ones who stayed in the house. And totally contradicting himself, Harrington insisted that the two at least sit outside and get some fresh air.

After that, the man disappeared somewhere, probably his room.

Michelle had sat down at the table with a book in her hands, completely absorbed in her thoughts. Despite thinking earlier that she would ruin his mood, he suddenly felt disappointing she wasn't open to talking. With Ned gone, he promised Betty to gather seashells with her, he felt lost.

Luckily, his phone battery hadn't died yet and he continued his game, sitting at the other end of the table.

With the wooden roof above the patio, the sun wasn't an issue. It was still hot and Peter noted that it hadn't been worth changing his shirt. The new one already felt soaking wet after only a few minutes and it wouldn't be surprising if he gets a sunburn without actually being exposed to the sun that much. The taste of salt, left by the ocean air, at least didn't bother him that much.

"Hey, why aren't you two at the beach?" The sudden question threw Peter completely off and he almost fell off his chair with how quick he turned towards the source. Beck eyed him curiously, ignoring Michelle as much as she was ignoring him.

"Not in the mood?" Peter returned, looking at the girl for a moment to see if she had any complaints. Appearently not. Her eyes didn't leave the pages and he looked back at the teacher.

"I get it, 10 hours on the plane is exhausting." Beck smiled, pushing the chair besides Peter closer and dropping down. 

Silence befell them again. Obviously, Peter didn't ignore his teacher. Trying to be as subtle as possible, he watched the man very closely actually. Beck was wearing a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. With the way he had placed his arms on the back of the chair, his biceps flexed very visibly under the thin material. Sunglasses hung loosely where a few buttons had been left open. Peter swallowed at the sight of just the slightest dusting of chest hair. A relaxed smile curled the mans lips.

It was....different than usual. More casual. Just as good though.

"What are you playing?" Beck asked, pointing at Peters phone when he gave only a confused look back.

"Just a stupid phone game. I don't have anything else to do," he quickly replied when his dropped down on the screen. The screen that hadn't been touched since Beck had sit down. He felt taunted by the little animated figures.

"And what do you do in this game?" Beck leaned in closer, enough that his arm pushed against Peters. He took a shaky breath and ignored how the arm hair tickled his own, much smoother skin. And also Becks shallow breath and just how his whole body radiated with more heat, enough to leave the boy struggling for air.

"You know candy crush?" Peter was proud of himself for not showing any signs of anxiety.

"I'm not that old," Beck huffed, shaking his head like he was disappointed.

"It's basically that, but you use it to fight against monsters." God, it really sounded stupid. But to his surprise, the curiousity didn't leave the mans face. No, it actually seemed to get more intense, with maybe a little bit of confusion mixed it. For almost a whole minute he just watched Peter play. It soon seemed to dawn on the man what Peter had meant and the previous confusion twisted into something close to fascination.

"Do you play a lot of video games?" Beck gaze wandered back up to Peters face.

"No, I'm more of a movie nerd," Peter choked out, trying not to stare directly into the blue abyss. He was already suffocating enough from the heat.

"Me too." This made Peter peek up with interest from wherever his eyes had starred before. Definitely not the mans bare bit of chest.

"But don't ask me what movies. You probably don't even know most of them," Beck quickly added when noting how the boys eyes started to shine with intrigue. It was quite clear what questions burned on his tongue.

"I thought you're not that old," Peter leered, not containing his amusement when Becks face dropped in fake offence.

"Fine. Ask away." The defeat in the mans voice made Peter chuckle.

"Star wars?"

"Obviously! My father made me watch it when episode 1 came out. I think he really wanted someone to talk to about it," Beck remembered, a content smile appearing on his face at the memory. For just a tiny moment, Peter wondered if his father watched Star wars when it came out.

"See? That's a start! I love star wars," Peter replied, pushing that thought aside like everything else bad. It definitely helped seeing Beck laugh and feeling the tremor through the strong arm still bare against his own.

"I remember you wearing a shirt with dath vader." The words made Peters heart jump. Just the slightest bit of attention and became aware of how hungry he was for it.

He felt himself flush with sudden embarassment and tried to conceal it with a beaming smile.

Beck excused himself to go take a look how the other students are. Supressing the disappointment, Peter just nodded and watched him leave, savouring the lingering sensation against his arm. He felt like a 12 year old boy who just got his first boner because someone said boobs.

Shaking his wandering thoughts back into place, he turned his attention back on the game. From the corner of his eye he did notice the movement at the other end of the table and when he looked up, he was met with Michelles starring at him. Something indecipherable flicking across her face before she stood up and went back inside the house. No word, only this intense look fixated on Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone knows what kind of phone game Peter is playing, if not, I look like a fucking idiot :'3
> 
> And for all of those who are freaks like me and like to associate songs with ships, Beast by 8 graves feels fitting for mysteryspider, or am I just desperate?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Hello to everyone from the discord server ;D  
> It's so much fun talking about Mysteryspider and Jake Gyllenhaal with you guys~
> 
> Anyway, I'm updating the tags, because this chapter is spicy!!! I'm really sorry though for making Peter so thirsty. I'm also sorry for MJs characterization, I feel like I'm screwing her up
> 
> I also made a playlist, mostly for myself to have something to listen to while writing, but why not let you enjoy it too?  
> thanks to Zezewone for suggesting No place like home, everyone else can give suggestions too if you have a song that fits the ship  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D (I hope the link works :'3)

Maybe the other guys were right. Even though Peter was able to sleep at some point, he spend like 3 hours ignoring the girls laughter from the next room. At one point one of them screamed, followed by loud footsteps in the hallway and then Mister Harrington asking what's going on.

During breakfast the next morning, Michelle revealed that there was a big spider on of the beds. The one who screamed almost sat on it. Peter could see what girl had been the victim. She seemed the most tired and hit one of the other boys when he didn't stop laughing. It was good to know that he should check his bed very closely before sleeping.

"We wanna play badminton, you want to join?" Betty asked after breakfast, Michelle shifting besides her. Of course Ned was immidiately on his feet, but this time he also waited for Peters decision. Happy to finally get to do something, he agreed.

Everyone went to change into their swim clothing. Peter also put on a thin, grey jacket to at least pretend he wasn't showing off his body to the world. To his delight, Michelle wore one too. They gave each other a nod in silent solidarity.

When they reached the beach with some of the other students, Mister Harrington was almost finished placing the badminton net. Peter and Ned went to help him with the rest. As he held up the net, waiting for the second pole to stand, his eyes wandered around.

A lot of the other students were also at the beach again. Two girls laid on their towels, eyes closed behind colorful sunglasses. Others played with a big inflatable ball in the water. From the sideline, a few guys watched them, quietly whispering and laughing. Flash was playing volleyball with the rest, glaring at Peter for a moment when he caught his eyes.

His gaze stopped at a figure out in the deeper parts, just swimming alone. It was hard to make out who it was with the sun shining so bright, but he guessed it's Beck.

The net was ready and Mister Harrington gave them the badminton equipment, making them promise to be careful. It's new and expensive. With a last warning look, he turned to watch the other boys. Considering the volleyball looked very heavy, it was probably better to have an eye on them instead.

"Girls against boys or Couple teams?" Betty asked expectanly.

"We're not a couple," Michelle simply replied, pointing between herself and Peter.

"Yes, but it's close enough," the blond stated, making the two just look at each other in confusion, like they were both asking the other what she meant. As if Peter knew.

"Straight people. They have such a narrow mind," Michelle whispered as she passed Peter, looking at him again with a much softer expression, "As if a girl and a boy can't just be friends. Always expecting romantic feelings, right?"

That was even more surprising and Peter wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he settled on a simply "Yeah, weird".

They ended up playing "Couple" against Couple, Ned complaining he didn't want to play against his girlfriend. Betty kissed him sweetly and gushed over how good of a boyfriend he is. The other two just watched with shaking heads. Yeah, straight people.

No, he was straight too. Yes, definitely. Beck? Not a crush. Just...admiration. A lot of admiration. Yes, that's what he could keep telling himself.

But that meant Michelle was gay? Or did she meant any straight person, but her? Did she think Peter is gay?

Consumed in his thoughts, Peter missed the first shot of the shuttlecock and his team partner gave him a look of disappointment. He returned the glare with an apologetic smile. There was no time to think, they had to crush Ned and Betty. The competitive spirit inside him was on fire and his concentration was fixed on the game and nothing else.

A few rounds later and Peter and Michelle were actually in the lead. Most of the credit was for Michelle. She was really good, a good first swing, but his reflexes were a lot better. It was a perfect combination and they even came up with a real strategy. Some of the other students started watching, they sat in the sand and cheered for their prefered team. Most of them chanting for the not-actually-a-couple-team.

"Okay! We give up," Betty sighed as she picked up the shuttlecock, holding up her other hand in defeat. She and Ned both gave the winners a ceremonial handshake and a promise to buy them ice cream later.

For Peter, it was a small victory though. As soon as his eyes laid upon Beck, he felt like a much bigger winner for different reasons.

While giving over the badminton set to a new small group ready to play, Mister Beck came swimming back to the shore and Peter felt his heart beat stop when the man stepped out the water. His memory had been kind to him, but not kind enough. What he remembered from last summer wasn't nearly as good as reality.

Becks tanned skin was gleaming like decorated with thousand diamonds underneath the sun. His hands pushed back his wet hair to tame the mess. With that, more water rained down onto his shoulders. A few drops running down the side of his face got stuck in his beard. Peters gaze followed the water running along the firm stomach muscles. The short swimming trunks revealed a lot in the lower area. Peter couldn't help following the thick happy trail down to the clearly big c-

Suddenly pain ripped his thoughts apart. Something hard left his head aching and vision blurry. He could hear the concerned voices of his friends when he dropped to his knees. But his own groan silenced them all. He felt a hand on his shoulder, cold water soaking through the jacket and easing the heat.

The ringing in his ears subsided and he slowly opened his eyes again, straining against the sharp light. Only one voice was now talking, the words becoming more clear. But only when Peter starred in those ocean eyes again, did he really hear what was said.

"Are you okay?" Beck asked, his thumb soothingly running above the boys collarbone. The pain, still thumbing in the back of his head, distracted his thoughts from running wild again.

"Come on, can you stand?" Peter mumbled something in agreement. One big hand wrapped around his arm, the other flat against his back. He closed his eyes again when he was back on his feet, the world spinning around him.

"Easy. Deep breaths." Becks voice was so close. Low and raspy.

Peter swallowed down another groan and followed the mans instructions, his lungs burning with every deep inhale of the salty air. His mind calmed though and soon the sweet encouraging words in his ears overturned the pain.

But he was still only vaguely aware how he walked along side Beck, the hands still pressing through the jacket and giving him support. He almost stumbled over the edge of the porch, but a strong arm against his chest kept him on his feet.

"Do you know what happened?" Beck asked as soon as Peter was sitting in a chair, safe from falling from over again. With his eyes shut again, he wasn't sure if they were already inside or outside. His head ached more again when he tried to think if he knew.

"No..." he mumbled, only opening his eyes when the aching soothed into a less straining pain again. Beck was kneeling in front of him and if that wasn't already enough, his hands moved up to cup Peters face in a strong grip. Not strong enough to hurt, but enough to leave a strange sensation along his jaw.

"One of the guys hit you with the volleyball," Beck informed, his thumb pulling at Peters lower eye lid, his gaze uncommonly serious.

"How do you feel?" The mans hand dropped down on Peters knees and he caught a needy sigh in his throat.

"I'm fine, Mister Beck," he breathed, his voice still strained, but his mind felt clearer. He shifted in his seat, the feeling of floating melting into a graspable heaviness. But with that came also the awareness that Beck was touching him. It stirred something inside him, something he was sure he couldn't control any longer.

And something twitched against his trunks.

"Are you sure? You're face is really hot," Beck replied, eyes not losing that observing edge.

"Yes. I'm gonna...go lay down, if you don't mind," Peter continued, but not making any effort to stand up. He was enjoying the thumbs stroking the space above his knees. It lingered a moment longer before Beck stood up with a sigh, the seriousness on his face twisting into concern.

"Okay, I'll check on you later," Beck faltered and turned to go back to the beach. When Peter stood up and made his way inside the house, he could still feel an intense gaze on his back.

Without giving in to the dizziness still shaking him up, he reached the big bathroom on the second floor. He dropped down on the toilet and took a deep breath. There was still the smell of vanilla deodorant wavering around him in a thick cloud of sweetness. It crawled down his throat, making him cough.

His eyes dropped down to his crotch and he frowned at the sight of his erection. When did this happen? Hopefully after Beck walked away.

Peter thought about taking a cold shower, but he was so hard and throbbing, he doubt it would help. With defeat, he gave in to his urges and pulled out his dick. That was such a bad idea for more reasons than one. Anyone could come into the bathroom at any point. This was a public space! And it was his teacher he couldn't stop thinking about!

But that didn't stop his stupid hormonal mind and he wrapped his right hand around his length, the left gripping onto the toilet seat. A long overdue moan slipped past his lips and he let his head fall back, eyes closed. With that, he could imagine Becks fingers stroking the sensitive shaft. Becks thumb pressing against the head, catching the drops of precum and smearing it over flushed skin.

Without lube, the touch of skin against skin felt raw, just on the edge of unpleasant. 

He could imagine Beck being into pain. Biting and clawing at Peters body like a hungry beast. Torturing him with slow, steady strokes. All the while growling sweet nothings into the boys ear, all compliments and pet names. Beck seemed like the type of guy who likes his partners to beg and cry for more when leaving them on the verge of the best orgasm they would ever experience.

The hand around his dick moved faster, his hips bucking desperately into the grip.

His mind wandered to Becks body. Beautiful sculptured muscles, covered in just the slightest dusting of dark hair. A picture how the mans biceps would flex and strain while Beck held Peters legs high up. Growled groans would come out, pleasure twisting every bit of his face while he pounded right into Peters virgin hole.

He couldn't catch the moans escaping his own mouth or the drool running down his chin, dripping onto his jacket.

Beck would know exactly how to fuck Peter properly to leave him shiver and writher underneath his broad body. His big dick thrusting slow and controlled, soon turning into animalistic rutting. All wild and rough, only the pleasure and love on their minds.

Peter was on fire, the orgasm so close, boiling in his guts. And as he imagined Beck whispering 'I love you', he tripped over the edge and came all over his hand and trunks.

Breathless and shaking, Peter just starred at his hand, feeling the stick substance between his fingertips. A minute or two went by before he was able to think clearly again.

And immidiately, all the guilt and shame flooded his body until it spilled over his lips as an annoyed groan. That was the ultimate "Shit"- Moment. His downfall. Now Peter couldn't deny his feelings for Beck anymore. Great, as if he wasn't already miserable enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL TOO FUCKING SWEET! If only I had a printer, I would print out each comment and hang them on my wall for motivation! I appreciate y'all so fucking much, you can't even imagine °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°  
> But I am surprised no one really commented on the spicy part XD
> 
> Anyway, I updated the mysteryspider playlist  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D
> 
> I also wrote another short Mysteryspider fanfic like yesterday  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839574
> 
> My goal now is to be one of the main sources of mysteryspider fanfictions. I already have a great idea for the next long fanfic. The kool kidz from the discord know ;D

As much as he hated himself for...whatever happened in the bathroom before, he couldn't deny how much better he felt. Like a weight has been lifted from his heart. Maybe it was the acceptance of his feelings. Whatever it was, Peter just felt so much calmer when talking to Beck. His heart wasn't exploding anymore, but still beating so fast whenever the man dared to look at him. The heat had eased into comfortable warmth and he was actually able to breath and talk like a normal fucking person.

And it was just wonderful.

While Ned spend most of his time with Betty and Michelle mostly chilling and watching the others, Peter was left alone to talk with Beck as much as he wanted.

They actually had a lot of common. Mostly old movies. At first Beck was suspicious and quizzed the boy about them, but after like the third one, he stopped and was just happy to talk about it. From old western to action, even horror. But Peter discovered a whole lot more about the man. His favorite food, the places he travelled to, the time he got actually engaged and ended it when he discovered his girlfriend cheated on him.

And also that Beck is bisexual. Peter made a mental note in the back of his head. If all this new feelings got too overwhelming, he knew he could talk to his teacher at least about self discovery and sexual confusion.

That's how the few days in greece went by. He was enjoying himself more than expected.

On the last night during dinner, most of the students looked unhappy. Peter overheard their complains that it was too short and the guys nagging the one who bragged before, if he got laid. Appearently not, but the night is still young, he insisted.

When most where already finished, two of the girls came up to Peter and his friends. Hannah and Lisa, the two who always thirsted over Beck.

"We wanna play some truth or dare. You wanna join?" Hannah asked, eyes fixated on Peter. He looked at Ned and then Michelle, both not looking that excited to say yes. Betty was the first to say yes and of course, her boyfriend gave in too.

"I guess. Sure," Peter faltered as well and just out of obligation and group pressure, Michelle also accepted the invitation.

"They have something planned," she said as soon as the two girls were gone, this suspicion back on her face.

"What could they possibly plan?" Betty shook her head and stood up, making Ned follow her. The picture made Peter quietly cringe. Slowly he was starting to doubt how happy he actually was for his friend. Next to him, Michelle whispered something about being whipped.

Mister Harrington excused himself and disappeared again, the rest of the students also leaving. No one had bothered to put away their plates and Michelle and Peter ended up helping Beck cleaning. He thanked them with a sweet smile, Peter swallowed down whatever stupid shit he was about to say. The girl next to him gave him a weird look. She always seemed to know everything.

"Are we really going to do this?" Michelle quietly asked, hand already on the door knob. From inside they could hear the other students laughing, probably already mid game.

"Yes. Let's suffer," Peter replied, giving her a small smile. She laughed and opened the door without another moment of hesitation. They were greeted by sudden silence and everyone starring at them.

"Ah! You came! Great, sit down and we explain the rules," Hannah said, pointing at the empty space between two other students. With regret already evident, they looked at each other before following the instruction.

"So, we got some alcohol. Don't ask how," she continued, gesturing behind one of the beds. A few bottles of beer and wine and unlabeled stuff decorated the floor, next to them a stack of red plastic cups. Peter wasn't sure if he was impressed or scared.

"If you don't wanna do the dare or answer the question, you have to drink. The one who dared or asked you decides how much to put in the cup."

"Any problems, Parker?" Flash drawled, noticing the way Peter was shifting. Peter glared back and straightened his back, huffing like it wasn't a big deal at all.

But the only time he ever drank alcohol was during new years eve like 3 years ago when he stole a sip from Uncle Bens wine glass. And he didn't like the taste back then, much less now. Though he really didn't want to be the only one not playing, so he decided to just go with whatever comes up.

Bad mistake.

"Peter, I dare you to kiss Michelle for 10 seconds!" Somehow he had expected that. It didn't make it better though. Peter turned to look at her, looking for any sign of disgust or something else that would make him stop. Nothing. She tilted her head and faint anticipation was glimmering in her eyes. What was worst? Losing your first kiss to a girl you don't love or drinking?

Difficult. He decided the first was the safer option and leaned in, one hand cupping the smooth edge of her face. The long curls tickled on the back of his hand. Her warm breath brushed against his lips and he almost pulled back. Almost. And then their lips met. Sweet and innocent. No one really made an effort for anything. Peter had his eyes closed, but felt Michelles intense stare and he just wanted this to end.

But it felt like an eternity until the girl finally counted 10. Peter pulled immidiately back, Michelle moving only a bit slower. A few howled at them, clapping and laughing. All Peter wanted to do was leave. At least the girl next to him didn't seem to mind. Or she just didn't show it.

Peter could tell himself it wasn't a real kiss. But what did it matter? It's not like he will actually every get to kiss Beck.

Most of the dares ended up with two people kissing or touching, in some cases. At least Peter was left alone with that. Mostly because he always chose truth when it was his turn. None of the questions were really bad. The worst maybe if it's true that his parents died when he was young. But he already made peace with that one long ago.

"Okay Peter," Lisa started, taking another sip from her cup, "we heard Mister Beck is your neighbour. Give us all the dirty details."

For a moment Peter just starred at her. Of course. That's what Michelle meant.

"I don't...there isn't anything..." he lied. There was a lot actually, but not for any money in the world will he give these girls the satisfaction.

"Oh, bullshit! We saw you talking to him everyday since we got here! You're his favorite student," Hannah chimed in, a few students mumbled in agreement.

"No, I'm not..." Peter could feel his muscles tense with every word, his throat tightening and constricting his breathing. It was suddenly too stuffy in the room.

"You're smart, but blind. He adores you," Lisa spat, shaking her head with a hint of disgust.

"For whatever reason," Hannah added. Both girls laughed. Some of the others joined. 

Peter suddenly felt a hand on his thigh and then he looked right into Michelles eyes. Concern soothed her face, a faint seriousness quietly telling him to just ignore it and drink.

It wouldn't be so bad, right?

Except it would be very, very bad.

"Come on! Give us something!" More cheers from the other students. Their voices suddenly too loud, melting into white noise and Peter jumped to his feet. He starred at the two girls for a moment lingering too long, disbelief and anger twisting his expression, leaving him shaking. They kept laughing and demanding for answers. Or maybe he was just imagining things. His mind was a twirling mess.

Without another word, he turned and just left. God, he was overreacting. Stupid, idiot, naive Peter can't control his emotions. It seems to run in the family.

Tears blurred his vision, he almost tripped as he passed through the glass door. He breathed in the salty air and just indulged in the burning. The wood of the porch was cold against his bare feet, the icy sensation creeping up his legs, but not strong enough to overpower the heat.

Peter continued. His thoughts kept swirling and he was unable to really grasp any of them. First, all the alcohol. Then they made him kiss Michelle. They questioned him about Beck. And he just couldn't talk. The man had trusted him enough to spill so much personal information and Peter would never betray this trust. But he also couldn't handle the thought of drinking.

His steps slowed on the sand, so he wouldn't slip. The ringing in his ears faded, replaced by the sound of the ocean. It was all he heard. No other person. Just the stars and the moon shining onto the calm waters.

Peter stopped when he felt it hugging his feet. Shallow waves against his legs and creeping coldness. He breathed in and out. Slowly. Easing his body and mind with every exhale.

He dropped down on the sand where the water didn't reach and just watched.

God, wasn't he just pathetic? But the taste of Michelles lips lingered and he felt his eyes burning. The smell of alcohol still in his nose, pushing against the salt. It seemed to fuel the burning anger scorching his insides. He wanted to scream.

Why? Because of all the emotions or the knowledge how much he was overreacting? Or maybe for feelings he tried to ignore for so long?

Either way, he didn't. A voice, calling out his name, stopped him. He didn't need to turn around to know it's Beck.

"There you are," he said, almost breathless, when he came to a hold next to Peter. The boy dropped his gaze down on his stretched out legs.

"You know you broke a rule," Beck continued rather casual though, another strained noise slipping past his lips as he sat down next to his student. Close enough that their shoulders touched. The sudden body heat left Peter shiver, but it seemed to sooth the fire, strangely enough.

"Are you gonna arrest me now?" Peter huffed back, mustering up a small smile.

"I forgot my handcuffs." With a playfully fake growl, Beck searchingly patted every pocket on his clothes. Peter couldn't help a laugh, indulging as his frustration melted into nothing but an afterthought.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly, lifted his gaze. Calm water and the sparkle of stars gazed back.

"Your classmates were worried about you," Beck spoke, voice all honey and cotton candy. Peter couldn't remember the last time someone talked to him like this. Soft. Caring. It hurt for a million reasons.

"They said you left very angry. Did they do something?"

 _Are you asking if they bullied me?_ , he almost asked, but it lingered as a thought and instead he shook his head with a chuckle.

"No. It's just me being stupid..." he replied, eyes dropping back down and focusing on rubbing sand between his finger tips. A sudden touch to his neck made him jerk, the suprise pushing all the air out his lungs and he was left breathless.

"I doubt that. You can tell me, I won't judge," Beck huffed back, hot breath against Peters skin and strong fingers stroking his neck, pushing sparks down his spine. He felt like drowning when looking back into the mans eyes.

"Mister Beck, are we friends now?" Peter asked before he could even comprehend his thoughts. Surprise flashed across Becks face. His free hand brushed against his beard, pondering the question until a smile curled the lips.

"If you want that, yes. That also means, that you can call me Quentin. Sounds weird when a friend calls me Mister."

Peters heart jumped right into his throat and he choked out a small "Okay".

"Funny, huh? We've known each other for a few years and only now did we really get to know each other," Quentin mused, tilting his head a little, his hand dropping from the boys neck. It settled behind Peter in the sand. His finger left a smoldering sensation.

"But it's nice, right?"

"Yes! I'm glad, actually," Peter splurted out, already cursing at himself in his head for sounding so eager. But Quentin only kept smiling.

"Me too," he agreed, voice so low. It _almost_ tasted like dark chocolate instead of honey.

"But we should get back now."

Peter almost groaned in disappointment when Quentin pulled away to stand up. But all his frustration was long gone and only burning low euphoria ached in his chest.

He didn't want the trip to end.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL KILLING ME WITH YOUR COMMENTS! This is the first fanfiction I didn't drop after 3 chapters, because of all the support you give me! I love you all so much, you're keeping this fic alive like champions (●´□`)♡  
> I made a series for all my mysteryspider fanfiction, because I'm probably gonna write like 10 more
> 
> This chapter is a little bit short, buuuut, next chapter is gonna be a fucking snack (hopefully)  
> TRIGGER WARNING for mild abuse
> 
> Playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D

But the trip ended and Peter felt like waking up from a dream. At least a dream he could remember, but it pained him just more.

He smiled as he watched Quentin disappear in his apartment. And faltered again when he turned to his own door, grip tight around the door knob. Every breath strained his chest. For a few days he had stopped thinking about all the bad and now he was pulled back into reality. Too fast, too harsh. Not even a chance to struggle.

May was asleep on the couch, TV still on and an empty bottle of wine held between lazy fingers. He shook his head and turned off the TV. The silence was deafening.

Peter put away the empty bottle and dropped a blanket over the sleeping figure, watching his aunt shift and turn on her other side. She looked so peaceful like that. For a moment he wondered if she also felt at peace when she could indulge in her dreams.

Watching her like that almost made Peter feel safe again. But a small part of him was still grieving for Quentins touches and cotton candy words. At least he had the knowledge, that they're officially friends and sleeping that night was easier than expected.

Another week went by. Peter was ecstatic every morning when Quentin was waiting outside at his car. It had become a habit. After school, when the teacher didn't had to stay longer in school, they went out for lunch. Talking. Laughing.

During school, he spend most of the time with Michelle. Ned and Betty distancing themselves since the truth or dare game. When Peter tried to ask his best friend, all he got was a "Sorry" and a cold shoulder. Michelle explained that she and Betty had a bad fight after he bolted out. Of course he felt bad, but the girl insisted that she wasn't mad at him. Or Betty. But more at Ned for just abandoning his friend like this, just because his girlfriend has to act so dramatic.

Peter wasn't sure who he should or wanted to be mad at.

Quentin didn't ask, mostly because Peter was good at smiling through it all. He learned that since Bens death.

Except when it came to May. She had a talent for riling Peter up. With her constant crying when another man left her or with scattered bottles on the floor or her complaining about a every little thing he did wrong. Like waking her up, when all she constantly does is keeping her nephew awake till the morning.

On friday, there was no exception.

Peter and Ned had planned their movie night for months now. Binge watching Star Wars, a lot of energy drinks and candy. But then on friday, the day they decided on like a month ago, he just told Peter he can't come. At least they hadn't bought the snacks yet. Saving money and time.

Of course he can't. Peter had tried to so much to pretend it was all gonna be fine and exactly how they planned, but it had been nagging in the back of his mind. This quiet whisper he would have to watch Star Wars alone.

Did he even want to watch it alone?

But with that broken promise also came the conversation with May. Due to Peters planning that he would spend the night at Neds house, she also made plans. She had every right to be mad. Though that didn't make the conversation easier.

"I can't believe it! What am I supposed to do now, huh? Just tell everyone 'oops, it's not gonna happen'?" Her face was burning red, her hand gesturing wildly around her. Next to her, her new boyfriend watched in silence. Only occasional glances at Peter and a suppressed smirk.

"You think I'm happy about this? My best friend doesn't give a shit about me anymore," Peter spat back, fingers gripping tightly onto the kitchen counter. He just wanted to scream at her and his voice was shaking from the strain of keeping it down.

"Oh, cry me a fucking a river! People come and go. Who cares?" May screeched, pacing the kitchen, eyes fixated on the floor like she was trying to avoid looking at her nephew. Like looking at him will boil over the anger into flooding lava.

And Peter could just drown in it. Let it burn his flesh and bone until there was nothing but dust. Until he wouldn't have to feel anymore.

"You appearently! Who isn't over Uncle Bens death and drowning themselves in alcohol?" The words slipped from his lips before he could even fully comprehend them himself.

He expected the hand against his cheek. Yet, the stinging pain was overwhelming, crawling along his jaw until it rang in his ears. Silence wrapped around them, a suffocating blanket with no comfort left. The anger twisted into shock and the shock into sorrow.

"Don't mention his name. You have no right." May spoke so low, surprise dripping with the words, like she couldn't believe herself either. But the deed was done and the anger still clawed in her chest.

Peter starred at her. His eyes burned as his vision blurred.

"You think you can just try to make me feel guilty for missing my husband, when it's _your_ fault he's dead?" Her voice seemed so far away, but every word another stab in his guts.

"Say something, you useless boy!" Loud. So loud suddenly. She was screaming and shaking him, her long nails digging into his flesh.

"You're just trying to find a reason to hate me..." Peter uttered through gritted teeth, his voice tense and shaky, like he was forcing each word out. It was too hard to breath. Everything felt too tight in his body.

"Excuse me?"

He hissed as the nails dug deeper, his shirt too thin to ease the pain.

"I know that you never wanted me. It was Ben who decided to take me in. You wanted to put me into an orphanage." Peter wasn't sure how loud he was speaking, the ringing in his ears only getting louder until it was only white noise. Until Mays yelling was all drowned out.

The memories of when he was a child, listening to his Aunt and Uncle argue, smothering every other thought. How she yelled back then, insisting they can't take care of a child. And Ben arguing how she could think so carelessly.

Bens death hadn't changed her. It had only brought something out, that she had been trying to push down.

Another bolt of pain against his face and all the sounds crashed over him, exploding his head with a horrible ache. May already lifted her hand for another slap, but the man besides her tightened his fingers around her wrist.

"I think that's enough." His gaze turned towards Peter. "You better leave, boy."

And he did. As soon as the mans words dropped from his mouth, Peter turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Every step felt heavy. The door knob was cold against his palm, the icy sensation soothing the scorching heat crawling under his skin for only a moment. Then the door fell close behind him and he shivered against the hallways chilling air, suddenly everything too much.

His knees gave up underneath him, more cold creeping into his flesh as his hands dropped flat onto the floor. Only his quiet sobbings echoed against the walls, a strange music in his ears. Every sob shaking him to the bone. Every tear burned against his sore skin. His breathing short and quick, his throat too tight for anything more and he soon felt dizzy. Through it all, he could barely grasp a thought, all the things swarming his mind an incomprehensable tornado.

Peter didn't hear the front door downstairs opening. Not the jingle of a bundle of keys. Or the man calling out his name in surprise.

He did feel the hand on his shoulder though. Careful, trying, as if it was scared the boy would break if being touched too harsh. But only a whine slipped his tongue and the pressure increased. Slowly the hand stroked along his shoulder blades, soothing all the bad like a sweet lullaby. Peter leaned into the touch and finally opened his eyes again, turning his head to look back into the deep, deep blue. How much he just wanted to drown in it.

"Oh god, what happened?" Quentin whispered, his other hand dropping the keys to tenderly cup the boys face. It hurt when a thumb brushed along his sensitive skin, still wine red and pulsating under the soft touch. Peter swallowed another whine, he didn't want the warmth to leave.

"Come on, let's get you inside." Quentins hand dropped from the boys face down to his forearm and with slow, careful pulls, he helped Peter up on his feet.

How long had he been sitting there? His knees ached as his legs stretched again, numb, but Peter knew it was only a matter of time until the pain would bite. All he wanted was to lay down somewhere and sleep. Exhausted and not trusting himself to stay upright, he instinctively leaned against Quentins broad chest, indulging in the warmth easing his muscles. The thick smell of musk and spice filled his senses and he felt like floating away.

Peter closed his eye, so his surroundings would stop spinning. He focused instead of Quentins shallow breathing and the way the mans chest heaved against his head. The storm in his mind calmed, leaving only a breeze of discomfort. Though he didn't try again to grasp his thoughts. Only the hand stroking his back was important.

The cold from hallways was lost as soon as the apartment door closed behind them. But the apartment itself wasn't that hot either. At least the air was less stuffy. Slowly he opened his eyes and dared too look at Quentin again. A small smile curled the mans lips, but the worry was still evident in just the smallest detail.

"I'm make you hot chocolate and then we can talk a little. How does that sound?" Quentin offered, every word too sweet in Peters ears, making him choke on a sugary taste.

"Sounds good," Peter croaked. Of course that sounded great, at least the hot chocolate and Quentin listening to whatever he would ramble about. But not telling someone about what happened when he could barely comprehend it himself. The sting on his cheek and swallowing darkness in his chest was still all too fresh and real.

But Quentins smile ignited a new fire inside and Peter melted like the man was the sun and he just vanilla ice cream. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold the feelings inside, when so much already spilled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRUMROLL PLEASE  
> I TEASED YOU GUYS LONG ENOUGH  
> It's 8 in the morning and I haven't slept in 10 years. I am quite proud of this chapter though  
> I hope you all enjoy!!!!  
> And again, I can't fucking thank you guys enough for all the support (●´∀｀)ノ♡♡♡♡♡  
> I don't know if I would have gotten to chapter 2 without you guys! And here we fucking are, chapter 8 baby, dropping hot at 8 am  
> And Fun fact: We're only now coming to the middle part of the story
> 
> Playlist  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D

Peter had cooled down a lot when Quentin came back into the living room with two matching cups in his hands. An overwhelming sweet smell creeped into his senses and he could only smile as he took the offered hot chocolate. The heat against his hands soothed the rest of the pain still clawing at his flesh and all he could think of was the man now sitting besides him on the couch.

"How do you feel?" Quentin asked, careful tone as if he wasn't sure if he should ask.

"I'm fine, thank you," Peter mumbled against the edge of the cup, taking a small sip of the hot sweetness. It burned in his mouth and throat, but it felt just right.

"Are you ready to talk?" The blue gaze on him was so soft, patient. It was making Peter melt against the back of the couch.

"No...can we...maybe watch a movie?" He returned, taking another sip of his hot drink.

"Of course! I have Star wars, if you want," Quentin smiled, placing his cup on the table. It was already cluttered with empty food containers like pizza boxes and chinese boxes, inbetween dirty plates and open soda cans.

The man did seem very uncomfortable when he realized the state of it all, but none of them said anything. Except that Peter smiled at his teacher with faint amusement. Quentin huffed dramatically, shaking his head a little.

At least Peter got his movie night. And this one was even better than the one planned. Even though they didn't talk for most of the time, except for some off hand comments, and just sat in silence.

But just sitting next to Quentin, close enough that their shoulders touched, and feeling the mans body heat burned all the frustration and worry away. Listening to him breath and sense the small movements coming with it thawed him into an equally calm state.

He shouldn't enjoy this so much. He knew it was wrong. But Peter felt like Quentin was the only person he had right now.

Four movies later and everything before felt so unreal.

"I'm ready to talk now," Peter said, starring intently at the passing credits on the TV. The man besides him shifted, turning off the TV to look at the boy instead. His blue eyes seemed to light up the dim darkness wrapped around them.

And Peters throat felt suddenly too tight to speak again.

"Okay, I'll listen. Take your time," Quentin replied. He propped one hand on the back of the couch, the other other holding his cup, now filled with orange juice. It didn't go unnoticed how his muscles flexed under the tight white shirt with the movement. Peter breathed in deep, noting the familiar musk lingering in the air.

While everything inside him strained against speaking, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to all this small distracting things.

"Do you remember when my Uncle Ben died?" he started, his voice casual, but every word fell like dead weight. His gaze continued to roam over the mans body. Anything but those sharp eyes.

"Yes. It was really tragic," Quentin mumbled, free hand rubbing along his chin. Skin rubbing against stubble making a distinctive noise. Every bit about the man seemed to sooth Peter. He almost felt like breathing again, but his heart felt so heavy and he knew what comes next will bring it all back.

"May changed after that. She started drinking. Gambling. And only after a few months she started dating again." Peter blinked away the starting blur. He felt a hot sting. Another deep inhale, shaky between his lips.

Quentins eyes narrowed, the smallest hint of knowing fleeting in his gaze. There was this oppressive sensation pushing on Peters shoulders. A small voice mumbling in the back of his head to stop. He would cry again. He would break again. When all he wanted is to enjoy Quentins presence.

"She hates me, she blames me for Bens death..." The shaking got more evident and the ache in his chest came back. A sick sensation crawled up his throat, making him choke. He couldn't stop the sob. Or the tears filling his eyes.

"Hey, shh!" Peter almost moved back when Quentin reached out his hand, but the intense gaze fixed on him, held him in place with a sense of security.

As soon as the mans hand cupped his face, it all just seemed to explode.

"She hit me! And it wasn't the first time! She gets so drunk all the time, leaves for days sometimes and I never know if she will come back!" Tears started to roll, uncontrolled, burning on his skin. Quentin placed his cup on the table and also put his other hand against Peters face. Another kind of warmth rushed through his body. It scorched his insides, leaving him shiver.

"Until now, I had Ned! But he-" Every sob shook his body, every breath straining his glowing lungs.

"-He has Betty and I feel like I'm losing my best friend. I feel so lost."

"Shh. Deep breaths," Quentin hushed, leaning closer until their foreheads touched. The pressure against his cheeks increased just a bit, stilling his head. Softly, the mans thumbs stroked under his eyes. Peter couldn't follow, every breath too short, too fast. His chest felt compressed, tensing with every inhale.

"Listen. Concentrate on my breathing."

The tender touch and mellow voice melted into Peters flesh, right down to his bone. He closed his eyes, just feeling Quentin against him. Closely he listened to the mans breathing as instructed. As if it was the most natural thing, his own adjusted. With every new inhale, it soothed into something more calm. Soon he felt lighter.

"You're doing so well," Quentin mumbled, smiling when Peter opened his eyes again. He moved back into his previous position. His hands lingered just a moment longer before dropping back into his own lap.

"It's all so much right now." The words slipped so much easier from his lips.

"I know." Quentin observed the boy with a thoughful glint. He was thinking, if his usual gesture of stroking along his beard was anything to go by.

"As your teacher, I'm obliged to report this to-" "No!" Peter jumped in his seat and raised his hands, stopping himself from grabbing Quentins arms.

"No..." he said again, quieter this time. Concentrating on his own thoughts, his gaze dropped down to his legs.

"I don't want all this stress. I just need someone to be there for me," he admitted. Searching for something to hold onto, his fingers clawed into the soft material of his sweatpants, tight enough to feel his own nails leaving marks.

A reaching hand pulled his attention back to the blue abyss. Almost lovingly, Quentins fingers curled around his wrist and his own grip loosened.

"I'm here for you and I won't go away," Quentin hushed, equally soft strokes with his fingers against Peters arm. So much heat and yet, he felt strangely cold. It wasn't enough. It wasn't what he wanted. Needed.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."It all seemed too good. His thoughts swirled and there were so many words stuck in his throat. So much he wanted so say. Too much he couldn't say. But he needed more. He needed more of the heat until it would burn him. 

Suffocate him.

Leave him gasping and whining.

"Maybe you should start by talking to Ned. If he is really your friend, he will listen. You also have to remember that it's his first love. The first love is always something special." Quentin was right. Of course he was right. As an adult, he knows how it works. So many relationships he has behind him.

How could Peter ever fit into that?

"I'm sure you're in love too," Quentin added after a moment of silence. Peter starred at him in surprise, swallowing heavily. He felt like he was being caught stealing.

"Yes..." The answer slipped faster than he could think. Uncle Ben had always said he's a bad liar, so why even try.

"Is it Michelle?" Of course he would ask that. Peter couldn't be mad at Quentin. The mans smile making him feel sickly sweet through the sudden stress boiling over.

"No," he croaked. Almost pathetic how meak he sounded.

"Really? You two seem to get along pretty well," Quentin retorted, leaning back and letting his gaze fall on his cup on the table.

"We're just friends."

Silence followed. Defeaning silence. He should finally tell him. If he doesn't, he knows it will eat him. Swallow him whole into endless darkness. One, he wouldn't escape.

Quentin was the lifeboat on the stormy sea.

And Peter only had to reach out-

"Will you tell me who it is?"

-reach before he drowns-

"I don't know if it's a good idea."

-before it pulls him deeper-

"Ah, I'm sure it's fine."

He can feel his lungs filling up to the brim. Salt on his tongue. His eyes burned. All he needed to do was spit it all out-

"It's you."

Peter drifted to the surface, panting and choking as he gasped for air. His fingers found their hold, clutching onto Quentins shirt. He could feel the mans chest rise and fall underneath his palms. Slow, careful motions.

"For so long I just wanted you. I tried to deny it."

Every word feather light. The admission lifting the pain. Is that how religious people felt confessing their sins? Because all Peter could do right now was believe.

"But then the trip to greece...and everything after that."

Like prayers his feelings fall. Beseeching the god before him for an answer.

"I'm in love with you, Quentin."

His grip on the shirt loosens as he finally looks at the man again. When did he moved so close?

There was something in Quentins eyes. A whirlpool of so much unspoken.

"Are you sure about this?" Quentin breathed, all sweetness gone. Voice so deep and low. A hush against Peters lips.

"Yes-"

Everything else he wanted to say, was swallowed by Quentin. The kiss soft, yet so greedy. Soon turning all hot and demanding. Fingers tangled into Peters hair, grasping and pulling until the boys mouth fell open around a moan. Another hand pressed against his back, a strong arm drawing him closer.

Close enough to press deeper into the kiss.

Peter mewled as the tongue dipped between his lips. It explored the new, bold and pushy, taunting the boys tongue for a dance. He caved, trying to keep up with Quentin. But he felt dizzy and weak, body quivering with overwhelming emotions.

He whined when Quentin pulled back. As he caught his breath, he opened his eyes, concentrating on the mans face through the daze.

"Fuck, you're so adorable, baby. How did I resist you for so long?" Dark chocolate melting right into Peters ears, making him shiver with more than just love.

"Please..." He wasn't quite sure what he was begging for, his mind a mess. No thought comprehensable enough to say more than a word. But Quentin understood. He lifted Peter up from the couch and just went straight to the bedroom.

"I'm going to eat you, baby," Quentin growled right next to the boys ear before he threw him onto the bed.

Peter lifted himself on his elbows, trembling with excitement. The man was watching him like he was nothing but prey. Food for the big bad wolf. 

Said wolf started to open his shirt one button at a time. Teasingly slow. First revealing his firm chest. Tanned skin covered in dark dusting. Peter swallowed down a sigh at the sight of Quentins abs. Hard muscles he was so eager to touch. He followed the line of dark hair, shifting nervously when his eyes stopped at the end of the happy trail.

There was already a clear bulge contained by tight jeans.

"Undress for me, darling," Quentin urged, taking a step closer and making his shirt slide off his shoulders. Peter sat up, gazing back up into the blue eyes. Holding the eye contact, he lifted his shirt, dropping it to the floor. Quentin hummed approvingly as he observed the revealed body. Lean figure. Graspable muscles hidden underneath smooth ivory skin.

Quickly the sweatpants followed. Peter hesitated, fingers moving along the waistband of his briefs.

"So perfect. Just for me," Quentin cooed, kneeling on the edge of the bed after dropping his pants too. He reached out and cupped the boys face once again, one hand stroking through the already disheveled hair. Every small pull elicited another noise from Peters throat.

"I'm gonna spoil you tonight," he continued, leaning closer again, catching the boys lips in another kiss. Taking the opportunity, he let his hands wander lower. Every touch left a burning mark on Peter. First ghost finger stroking his throat, increasing pressure as they dropped onto his chest. They explored every bit they could reach and Peter was straining hard against his last bit of clothing.

"Please...yes..." Peter moaned, feeling the fingers right above his throbbing erection. Quentin grinned and swallowed the next moan with a kiss again as his hand dipped past the thin cloth. Skilled fingers wrapped around the boys dick. Just the touch alone felt so much better than any time Peter had masturbated.

Slow strokes send bolts of unbelievable pleasure up his spine and Peter melted into the touch, moaning and mewling with all the desperation he could muster. The pressure increased. Quentin pushed down the briefs to get a better grip. Fingers and palm rubbing against the sensitive skin.

"Yes, show me how good you are for me," Quentin breathed, leaving kisses along Peters jaw. When reaching his throat, soft lips became sharp teeth, biting and sucking until lilac spots decorated the pure canvas. The pain was just another spark bringing him closer to the edge.

"Ngh, Quentin, Quentin, Quentin-" Desperately he clawed at the mans arms, nails digging into the flesh, leaving red marks along the flexing biceps. He was so close, he started bucking his hips into the tight grip, whining for more.

Quentin huffed in pure amusement and loosened his grip until his finger just slipped off.

"No," Peter groaned, the frustration not barely enough to overpower the pleasure still electrifying his whole body.

"Patience, darling. I want you to cum from my dick alone," he hushed against the wounded skin and straighened his back again to look at the boys face. Lust glazed the brown of his eyes, giving him a lost look. The bruises along his throat were a beautiful contrast to the rest.

"Lay down, baby," he whispered, stroking Peters face one last time. Immidiately the boy obeyed, on the verge of an orgasm and just eager for more. The pillow was strangely cold against his burning neck, the sheets quickly damp with sweat.

He glanced at Quentin, fingers curling around the sheets to keep himself from touching his throbbing dick. The man leaned over to look into the nightstands drawer and took a small bottle and a condom out. With a smile, he dropped back onto the bed. He placed both things next to Peter and crawled between his quivering legs.

"So pretty," he mumbled, hands stroking along the exposed thighs down to the only piece of clothing still caging the poor boys erection. Agonizingly slow he moved his fingers between the waistband and hip, pulling, teasing Peter until he was groaning in despair. Only then did Quentin pull off the underwear.

Peters face was on fire. Showing so much of him was weird, different, but the way the man was looking at him made him weak. Hunger and Need as those blue eyes roamed his flushed body.

Quentin dropped the underwear carelessly on the floor and pushed himself further between the long legs. Instinctivly they spread further, giving him enough space to appreciate the twitching cock and pink hole. 

"Tell me when you don't like something, I will stop immidiately,"Quentin assured, leaning down to leave another mark on Peters thigh. No word of complain, only another high pitched moan as the mans tongue dragged across the fresh bite. With swift movements, he grabbed the small bottle of lube and squeezed some on his fingers.

Peters breath hitched at the sight and he had to bite his lip to keep down his excitement. He had watched a lot of porn, but so far, nothing has been what he expected. A slight fear crawled up his spine as his slicked fingers trailed from the tip of his cock downwards. But just the blue eyes watching so intently and the soothing stroking on his thigh from the other hand, was enough to kill every worry.

"Ooh!" Peters eyes widened as the first digit slipped in. No pain, but the sensation of his hole being stretched like this was weird. Intense. It pushed in deeper and a second finger pressed past the rim. A dull aching followed the stretch. Nothing Peter couldn't handle. Though his grip on the sheet tightened and every muscle seemed to tense with the intrusion.

"Relax," Quentin hushed, thumb rubbing small circles into the soft flesh. Peter could only nod, throat tight around the breath he was holding. He let it out and melted back into the mattress below. The dull ache dissolved. Instead, a new kind of sensation jolted from his depths as the fingers rubbed his inner walls.

"Good. You're doing so great, baby." Quentin pushed his fingers deeper, bending them against the soft flesh and eliciting a deep sigh from the boys mouth. Definitely satisfied. He took that as a go for him to continue. A third finger and Peter moaned with every slow stroke.

He could feel the boy relaxing under his other hand and after a drawn out minute of just stretching, Quentin pulled his fingers out. Peter suddenly felt empty. A strange feeling to have, not enough time to think about it.

Quentin grinned down at the boy as he pushed down his underwear too, revealing his own throbbing erection. Peter let out a small gasp. Just as big as he expected, maybe even a little bigger. A small bead of pre cum glistened on the thick head, visible veins along the shaft. The happy trail melted into a perfect frame for it all.

"Do you think you're ready?" Quentin asked, already opening the condom package. With his mind a complete mess and his dick begging for release, Peter could never say no and gave another nod. Like he was contemplating the boys reaction, he hummed thoughtfully, pulling the condom on like he had done it a hundreds time. Maybe he had.

Peter was almost jealous of all the people before.

But then Quentin hooked his arms underneath the boys knees and pulled him closer, rubbing his cock flush against the other. A grin curled his lip, amused, almost taunting. Peter tightened his grip on the sheets and pushed back against the smooth friction. Incoherent pleads slipped from his tongue, his body burning with the need to just feel.

"Baby, you're killing me," Quentin breathed and positioned himself, tip pushing against the lube dripping hole.

There was a moment of hesitation, Peter could see something flash across the mans face.

And then he pushed in and the boys insides exploded with pain and pleasure. A blinding firework as Quentin didn't hold back, burrying himself to the hilt. He groaned in synch with Peter moaning, both just indulging in the feeling for a moment.

"I'm...fine...move..." Peter whined after a few moments, already short of breath. His throat was dry with all the heat and yet, he was shivering like in the middle of a winter day.

Quentin huffed in agreement and pulled almost all out before thrusting back in, making Peter mewl. He quickly found a perfect rhythm. Not too rough, but fast enough to make it worthwhile. The wet heat enveloped him with every deep shove, clenching arond him while Peter was writhering with all the sweetest noises.

Quentins grip on his thighs was the only painful thing, but the dull ache of his nails digging into soft flesh just fueled the unrelenting fire. Every thrust left him gasping for air. He felt like floating and falling all at once. Too light to stay down with his thoughts, his mind just a haze of pleasure and Quentin. Too heavy to not feel all the sensations. Pain and pleasure flashing through his body while the man above just pounded into him. Sweat sticking to his skin like a second layer. Scorching heat burning him from inside.

And then Quentin shifted his hips, changing the angle. With the next thrust stars danced across Peters vision. Everything broke down and he came with his lovers name slipping his tongue, spurting all over his stomach.

The orgasm left him numb and drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep. But as Quentin kept thrusting into him, kept rubbing his oversensitive flesh, he was pulled back. He wanted to beg for more, but the exhaustion was dripping heavy on every limb and he could only moan pathetically.

Another deep push and Quentin stilled, nails digging deep enough to draw blood. Peter hissed from all the overstimulation when the man pulled out. The stretch was suddenly gone and he felt like breathing again.

Too tired to keep his eyes open, he could only listen how Quentin moved around. A door creaked, the noises of naked feet against smooth floor disappered somewhere. Peter couldn't even think about taking a look. He never felt this worn out. And already drifting into sleep, he only vaguely sensed the wet cloth wiping on his stomach and then the much bigger figure dropping next to him into the mattress.

"Sleep well, darling," Quentin hushed with a soft kiss against Peter temple. The boy mumbled something back, not sure what as his mind already shut down. The last thing he knew was strong arms pulling him into a tight hug and then only the sweetest dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for all the mistakes UwU  
> Also, I think this is the first time I described a character using a condom, like, what the fuck is wrong with me?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really surprised y'all with the smut, huh? >:3c  
> Glad you all like it! I was very unsure about the chapter and had a small breakdown if my writing is good enough, great stuff. But the comments made me feel so much better and I can't say it too many times; I love all of you! Your support brings me so much joy!  
> Anyway, I had to take a small break after not sleeping for an entire night because of chapter 8 and not having the time to write the day after because of personal stuff. AND because with Chapter 9 begins Phase 2 of this Fanfiction (we're going full MCU here). Phase 2 is gonna be dramatic and a little sad and will end the story. But there is gonna be a Phase 3. Not saying what that's gonna be.  
> I calculated how many more chapters I will write until it's done and it's gonna be like 3 or 4 after this. So around 12 chapters total.
> 
> This chapter is from Quentins perspective, because I'm sure people are wondering about his feelings.  
> It's the first of two chapters from his perspective.
> 
> Now, I made you wait long enough. I hope this chapter isn't too bad :'3
> 
> MysterySpider Playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/51LaWZJRTUCbt1cvfVmOO0

Quentin was the worst person in the universe. Or so he felt like. He was definitely pathetic for giving in so easily when Peter confessed his love.

So long he had tried to resist. For so long he tried to ignore how good his student is. Pure innocence, smart, just beautiful in all the right ways. But Quentin is still his teacher. Someone who should only teach the boy the periodic table and not how to kiss.

For a whole year he had watched the boy. Since becoming his teacher, he had sensed this something between them. He had noticed how Peter looked at him. All naive and unsure of his own feeling.

It had made him crazy. Slowly. With every lingering stare. With every word spoken from those pretty lips. The fleeting touches here and there.

Quentin tried, he really did. Until last night.

Seeing Peter cry and pour out his heart like this awakened what had been contained for so long. A desire. A starving love. He couldn't swallow the hunger anymore when Peter confessed. All his morales and common sense was thrown out and only the needy animal thought and moved and tasted it all.

And now he sat in bed, feeling miserable.

He watched the dust dance across the ray of sunlight shining warm through the window. Outside the birds chirped their little songs and cars passed. For a moment it all seemed to normal. Like every other morning.

But the arm around Quentins waist was too heavy to ignore.

Peter was still sleeping, face all soft and peaceful. Quentin couldn't help but reach out and brush away a lost strand. His fingers glided through the mess of brown, eliciting a content sigh from the boy. It broke the mans heart how perfect this all was. Straight from his dreams.

But he knew it can't last. It shouldn't have happened in the first place. He didn't want to push Peter away. The thought of hurting him like that already overwhelming. There was already too much going on and now Quentin had led him on, made him think his love was mutual.

It was, but Quentin just can't act on it more than he already has. This was just so wrong.

Carefully he pushed off the arm, still for a moment when Peter whined from the loss of warmth. But luckily, the boy didn't wake up, only rolled on his back with another sigh. Quentin shook off the smile forming on his face. This was bad. Really, really bad.

Quietly he walked out the room, taking a deep breath as the door fell close behind him. His lungs burning and his muscles tense with all the guilt. He made his way to the bathroom, mind spinning with fruitless attempts to come up with what to do. He should wake him, tell him to just forget it happened and then just go back to whatever they were before greece.

How easy it sounds in his head.

And it would have worked, if Peter wasn't an already too depressed teenager.

The water was ice against Quentins scorched skin. Lost in thoughts, he just watched it drip from his fingers down into the sink. He still hoped he would wake up and all of this is just another shameless dream. Cursing under his breath, he let the water gather on his hands and then drowned himself in the cold.

Quentin pulled up gasping for air and his eyes wandered to the mirror in front of him. Drops of water ran along his face, down from his chin along his throat. He shivered as the cold sensation reached his collarbone. He was pale or maybe it was just the bad light. But he definitely felt sick enough for it.

A faint dizziness swirled in his head and he stepped back until he was sitting on the bathtub edge. His eyes started burning as he starred down onto his wet hands. With a groan he burried his face in them, his tears melting with the water on his fingers into nothingness.

Almost 30 minutes went by until Quentin felt like he could stand again. His legs still shaking, he left the bathroom and stalked back into his bedroom. At the sight of Peter sitting on the edge, pulling up his underwear, he stilled. Of course his mind immidiately wandered back into this dark thoughts about how perfect the boy is.

Long legs, the feeling of their weight and soft flesh still on Quentins hands. Ivory skin stretched over a lean body. Just the slightest hint of muscle flexing with every movement. His hair was disheveled, stray strands brushing against his forehead. Deer eyes perked up at the sound of the door. First surprise twisted his face, soon melting into pure glee.

"Morning!" Peter pushed himself off the bed, a fleeting pain crossing his expression. But a beaming smile replaced it and only the slight limp was any indication of the previous night.

"Morning, baby," Quentin returned, mentally hitting himself for using the pet name.

His muscles tensed up again when the boy stopped right before him. So close. Too close. His soft breath a melody in the man ears, cool against his bare chest. The need to touch the smooth skin again and feel everything was tingling in his fingertips, but curled his hands into fists instead. Tight enough to feel his nails dig deep into flesh.

When Peter tiptoed to kiss Quentin, the took a step back, dodging the soft lips. With a smile he placed his hands on the boys shoulders and pushed him back down.

"Do you wanna take a shower?"

"No." Peters eyes narrowed. There was a disappointment written all over.

"Maybe some breakfast?" Quentin continued, ignoring the way his heart drops and how soft the boys skin feels against his palms.

"Quentin." Peters voice is harsh and the man squeezes his shoulder in surprise, but drops his hands quickly.

"What's wrong?"

A simple question, but it made Quentin take a deep breath. He holds it for a moment and then lets go again, almost feeling dizzy from it. Maybe fainting will save him from this situation. Or make it worse.

But suddenly Peter pushed against him until he hit a wall.

"Peter-" "Don't lie to me."

There is strength in the boys words, but Quentin hears how the pain shakes his voice. His throat strained around his own words and he can only groan with frustration. Not at Peter, but at himself.

"You regret what happened." It's not a question. Peters lips quiver with the statement, his breath hitches just like the night before when he was close to crying.

"No!" Quentin places his hands over the smaller ones pressed against his chest.

"But we-" He takes in the little twitch in Peters eyes, "I shouldn't have done this with you."

It's out. He said it. But the weight isn't gone. It only seemed to get worse as he watched the brown iris blur behind gathering tears. Peter opens his mouth to say something, fingers curling until nails pressed into the mans chest. 

Nothing comes though. His mouth just dropped close again and he turned, walking back into the bedroom. Quentin quietly stands back. It wasn't a surprise when Peter gathered his clothes and got dressed. It still pained the man. Everything inside him was screaming to stop the boy, to tell him he loves him, to never let him go.

But then this small voice of common sense claws at his mind, whispering what a horrible person he is for lusting after his student. Hushing how it's not love, that he's just desperate. He wouldn't hurt the boy if it was actually love.

And maybe this small voice is right.

He still grabs Peters arm as he passes, holding him back with a stern look on his face. At least he tried to look serious, but the desperation was probably a lot more prominent.

"Peter, please listen-" "No!" Quentins lets the boy shake off his hand.

"I should have realized when you didn't say it back..." Peter mumbles, more than himself than to the man. Though Quentins hears it anyway and he knows what he didn't say. What he should have said. What he really wants to say.

But his mouth is dry and his throat too tight. Nothing comes out and Peter just leaves. The door closes and it's suddenly too quiet. A long held breath pushes out and Quentin drops to the ground, his body heavy with too much.

He really fucked up.

Sunday was awful.

Monday even worse. Quentin didn't want to go to school. He almost thought about calling in sick, but the school year technically just started. So it was a bit early for that. And against everything yelling no inside him, he woke up. The other side of the bed still strangely cold.

When he left his apartment, he stilled for a moment, his eyes fixating on the door opposite of his. For a moment he just starred as if expecting to see Peter. But then he remembered the boy should have been in school an hour ago.

Even if Peter would come out this door now. Why would he accept Quentins offer to drive him?

He really hated driving alone, now that he was used to Peter quietly singing along to the radio and complaining about some stupid homework. It was just too quiet. Just him and the soft hum of the car engine.

The schools silence was just more suffocating. At least the teacher lounge was loud and distracting. Miss Tern was the first to greet him, pulling a chair to sit at his table with him. Quentin listened to her talking about the weekend. Smiling and nodding to whatever she was saying. Something about her sisters birthday.

His mind focused on everything else about her though. Wine red lips twitching and moving around the words so delicately. The spark of excitement in her green eyes like sun through the leave roof of a forest. Blond curls bounced and fell with every little movement, her hair just long enough to reach her chest. A tight button up shirt revealed a deep cleavage between her big breasts. Perky and pushed into perfect form. Quentin could see the lilac bra underneath from so close.

Miss Tern was a smart and beautiful woman. But Quentin felt nothing looking at her. His thoughts could only muster how her smooth skin reminded him of Peter. She was probably just as soft. Maybe he wasn't just desperate for attention.

One of his first lessons was with Peters class. He felt like back in highschool as he pushed the door open, nervous and unprepared.

But the boy wasn't there. Quentins eyes subtly searched the room. No Peter.

"Good morning." He placed his bag on his chair, taking in the crowd again.

"Where is Peter?"

"Sick," Michelle answered from the back, not looking up from her book. A few other students turned as if they haven't noticed that one classmate was missing. Quentin frowned, blaming it on the sudden conversation sparked by the question and not on the ache clawing at his heart.

He dismissed the class a few minutes before the bell and sat down at his table to already organize the papers for the next day. Two of the students stopped to talk. Two girls. Hannah and Lisa. Quentin knows how they're looking at him. How they giggle and talk behind his back. Just some silly teenage girls with a crush on their teacher.

Just like Peter, right? Then why didn't Quentin ignore his gazes and touches like he ignores the girls?

He wasn't just a weird pervert lusting after his students. It was serious. Everything he felt for Peter. Yet, even with this revelation, he can't imagine kissing the boy again. It was still so, so wrong.

Still, as a teacher he felt obligated to at least check how the boy is doing. That's his excuse for knocking on the Parkers apartment door after coming back home. What was he even expecting? That Peter talks to him? What would he even say to the boy? That he's sorry? What good would that do?

But it was already too late. May Parker opened the door, looking a little disheveled. Though a smile curled her lips as soon as she recognized her neighbour.

"Oh! Mister Beck, what a surprise!" Her words filled the air between them with bittersweet strawberry scent. The alcohol was almost not noticable.

"Hello, Miss Parker. I just wanted to see how Peter is doing," Quentin replied, forcing himself to mimic the womans smile. She gave a small nod and asked him to wait with a small hand move. Quietly he watched her go back into the apartment and stop in front of a closed door.

"Honey, Mister Beck came to see how you are," May said loud enough to be heard through the wood. Nothing. She knocked and tried again. It was quiet enough for Quentin to hear the muffled response. A clear "Leave me alone". He couldn't blame the boy.

"You're such a brat," May hissed back, all beaming politeness melting away from her face. It was only a wild guess what the next response was. Definitely not very nice, considering the way the womans hands clenched into fists. Behind the rim of her glasses, she turned red, but as soon as she turned back to Quentin, the smile had come back.

"Teenagers! I can't imagine how you survive working with them, Mister Beck," she laughed, drawling the name like gum. Something close to coquetry sparked in her facial expression and Quentin couldn't help a frown. Her soft face and brown eyes looked too familiar.

"You get used to it..." he returned, swallowing down the impeaching tone tickling on his tongue. Like she knew that the answer was referencing to her incompetence as a mother figure, she laughed it off, her smile twisting just the slightest bit.

"Well, it was nice to see you. If you have time later, maybe you could come over for dinner? I'm making pasta!" The flirtatious timbre was now dripping with every word. Quentin should have been discouraged to say no by the fact that this was one of his students aunts, not by the memory of Peter moaning underneath him.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm really busy with school work," Quentin lied, forcing the corners of his mouth back into a smile. 

She nodded, clearly disappointed by the rejection.Not that Quentin cared. Through the whole conversation he had to drown the knowledge how May treats her own nephew. He should call someone. It was the right thing to do. But Quentin wasn't sure anymore if he really knew what the right thing is.

They departed with quick goodbyes, May lingering just a moment longer before closing the door. And Quentin? Quentin felt tense. Disgusted by himself. All his thoughts just wrong. He should take his own advice and just forget about it.

Forget about Peter. His taste, his smell, how he feels, how he said 'I love you'. Forget everything until he was nothing but another student.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry for breaking your heart with the last chapter. I swear, this is gonna end happy, but you have to bear with me just a little longer!  
> Thank you for all your comments though, I love all of you so much!!! One day I will print them all out and hang them on my wall, I promise  
> ♡♡♡♡♡♡(.◜ω◝.)♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> MysterySpider Playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/51LaWZJRTUCbt1cvfVmOO0

Peter wasn't sure who he should be mad at. Quentin, for playing him like that or himself, for confessing and making himself vulnerable for it. He decided on the first. It was easier. No one wants to look at themselves for change.

It's always the other persons fault.

The weekend was hard. When he was sure he felt better, he cried again. But because this left him with a constant headache, he ended up sleeping for most of the time. May only came in occasionally to give him food or something to drink. He wanted to reject her, but even through all the anger still lingering like a bite, he was thankful.

On monday Peter felt like he got dragged through hell. When he was getting ready, he threw up and decided to stay home. May didn't question it.

Just like the days before, Peter slept the whole time. But it was restless and he seemed to wake up every other hour. It was easy for his aunt to wake him even with her yelling muffled through the door. As he didn't respond, she said it again. The mention of Quentin stirred something inside him.

He cried enough that there was only anger aching in every fiber of his body.

"Leave me alone," he yelled back, pushing off his blanket. Every bit of fatigue was gone.

"You're such a brat," May hissed back, her voice high pitched with mimicking emotion.

"Fuck off!" Peter sat up in bed and watched the door, waiting for it to open. It didn't. Not even an answer from his aunt. Silence befall him, itching him with uncomfort. Muffled through the walls he heard the two adults exchange a few more words before the door closed again.

Defeaning silence. And then the door opened. Peter felt like he was getting used to the pain left by Mays hand. But maybe not. He still frowned at the sting in his jaw.

"You little shit! You could have at least said hello to your teacher!"

Peter just starred at her.

"Answer me!" Her voice was piercing in his ears, leaving just another kind of headache aching in the back of his head.

"Who cares? He's almost as awful as you are," Peter spat back, pushing at her shoulders as he jumped up from his bed. She stumbled back in surprise, just catching herself on the boys desk from falling.

Shock twisted her expression.

"What did he do?" The question stilled Peter for a moment. A faint hint of worry drifted with the words, leaving him stunned.

"Oh, suddenly you care?" Peter couldn't stop his response, the words slipping from his tongue like heavy weight. But it suddenly felt so wrong accusing her like that.

"I don't get what your problem is! I might not like you, but you're just a teenager! I'm trying to care about you and you make it so difficult," May confessed. Like she was relieved to tell him that. The more she said, the more her expression softened into something unfamiliar. Something that was only fueling Peters anger.

"Aren't you just a great person?" he spat back, dropping back onto his bed. Blood was rushing into his head, leaving his face on fire. With the heat his mind started to spin and with the spinning he felt like falling.

"Peter." The tender tone made him flinch. It has been too long since he last heard her talking like this.

"I'm really trying. Because Ben loved you."

Peter blinked away the stinging sensation. It wasn't real. She was just trying to find excuses for herself. Just like everyone else. As long as they didn't have to look into a mirror, everyone can blame someone or something else. It was just too easy.

"Yes. And he is gone. Forever. It doesn't matter anymore what he wanted." His mouth was faster than his mind. He could only speak what swirled in his heart. It only hurt more when she pretended to be good, more than every hit or insult.

Silence. May placed a hand flat on the table behind, leaning into the support with a dropping composure. She took of her glasses to rub her eyes with the back of her other hand. Her shoulders slumbed with a deep sigh and Peter was almost sure he could see her lips trembling.

"What did Mister Beck do?" she asked again. Sugary sweetness dripped in her voice. Too much for the boy to handle. He wished she would just keep yelling, it wouldn't make his soul so heavy.

"He-" Peter choked on his own words, throat too tight around them.

"I confessed my love to him." Even with his eyes focused on the floor, he could see May tense up. "We had sex. And then he rejected me the next morning. I feel so used."

With every word, his voice dissolved more and more into a pained shaking. It was becoming harder to speak as his eyes filled with tears and sobs threatened to strangle him. He wasn't sure why he was telling his aunt all of this, but it felt so liberating.

Though he didn't expect the sudden weight of arms around him. Or the hand against the back of his head, pushing him into a warm shoulder. But as he started to cry, he didn't care how much he hated it. May hushed him with small kisses on his hair, whispering to let it all out. He did, until her shirt was soaked with his tears.

Peter didn't want this. He didn't want May to solace him. It was a painful discomfort scratching at his mind.

They sat like this until Peter couldn't cry anymore. His eyes burned, his cheeks wet and he couldn't stop shaking. May pulled away and smiled. It suddenly all felt fake. Just a memory of before Ben died. When they were happy. When Peter could still believe his aunt cares.

She left his room with a promise to make dinner later and the offer to listen if he wants to talk.

Of course he refuses. He also refuses dinner, despite his stomach filled only with hunger. All he wants is to sleep and forget. It's what Quentin would want. That he simply forgets what happened and they can pretend. Peter was good at pretending.

The next day, Peter went to school. He couldn't handle May fussing over him again. Even though he wasn't quite sure if it was worst than seeing Quentin again. Maybe not. He woke up extra early just to avoid the man. On the way to school he was sure he saw his car, but his mind was screaming at him not look.

Ned was ecstatic to see his friend again. Both MJ and Betty seemed excited too, but containing it a lot better. Appearently the girls made up over the weekend and wow, Ned finally talked to Peter again. How nice of him.

When they asked about the day before, he dodged the question by asking what was discussed during lessons.

The classes dragged on for way too long. Peter couldn't concentrate on anything, his mind a wandering mess. Instead of listening to what the teacher was saying, he concentrated on the small noises he never noticed before. How the chairs squeaked over the floor when moved just the slightest bit, pens running over paper, the occasional yawn and cough, his own breathing. It all seemed so much. Too loud. Leaving his ears ringing and head throbbing.

He needed to get out.

And then the bell rang for break time. Peter sat with Ned, MJ and Betty outside, enjoying the warm sun. It was getting cooler though or maybe they were just lucky on this day. Still, Peter felt like he was melting against the stone steps.

Maybe it was just the boiling emotion in his guts. Quentin was standing just a feet away, talking and laughing with Miss Tern. They looked so good together. She would make Quentin a very happy man. If he gives her a chance, but why wouldn't he?

His heart dropped when their eyes met. Peter held the eye contact, eyebrows furrowed as a frown twists his face. The mans smile faltered. Just for a fleeting moment he opened his mouth as if wanting to say something, but swallowed the words, his adams apple bobbing as his eyes dropped down at Miss Tern again. He said something to her instead, she gave a small nod and they turned to go back into the building.

"Are you listening?" A hand on his shoulder pulled Peters attention back to his friend. Ned starred at him expectanly.

"No, sorry. What were you talking about?" On his other side, MJ scoffed, shaking her head with a side glance.

"We talked about watching this new superhero movie," Ned explained, "we wanna go watch it on friday."

"It could be a double date," Betty jokingly said. Again, another amused scoff from MJ. This time a smile curled her lips just the slightest bit when Peter looked at her.

She was pretty, wasn't she? Smart. Funny. Maybe he should act like a normal fucking teenager. Fall in love with a girl of his age, instead a teacher twice as old. He could try at least. Quentin was clear that he doesn't want anything. So why bother crying after him every night?

It was just going to make him crazy. He didn't want to be desperate and angry and sad anymore. Peter knew he won't survive if this keeps going.

So he smiled back at Mj.

"Yeah, why not? A double date sounds fun."

A surprised "Oh" came from Ned, followed by Betty giggling and whispering something. Something along the lines of "I knew it". And Mj? The corners of her mouth twitched like her smile was about to drop, but it stayed. Though Petter caught this something passing in her eyes. As if she knew he didn't mean it.

A lie. If Peter tells it himself enough times, it will become real. Like a witches spell it will take over him. He doesn't love Quentin, he is in love with MJ. The man is nothing but a teacher. The girl in front of him, perfect and just what he wants.

But how long until the midnight moon comes out and the magic begins?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LOVE YOU GUYS GIVE ME! HHAAAA! IT MAKES ME WEAK AF! ♡♡♡♡♡♡(.◜ω◝.)♡♡♡♡♡♡  
> I know I'm hurting you guys and I'm sorry, I'm actually crying myself while writing :'3
> 
> Btw. I really don't like the Peter/MJ ship. During Homecoming I was too into Starker and now I'm too much in love with MysterySpider. R.I.P me. I still enjoyed the bit of romance in FFH.
> 
> MysterySpider Playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/51LaWZJRTUCbt1cvfVmOO0

It seemed to get easier with every passing day. Peter just ignored Quentin. Except when he was with Miss Tern. Seeing them together just left this pressure on his heart. A burning jealousy, the only bad thing left. It will disappear like everything else.

On friday Peter almost wanted to skip school again. But despite this lingering pain, he made great progress. Trying to avoid Quentin like this again will only make it worse again. He also promised to go watch the movie with the others and May won't let him go if he skips school.

The sun was burning, making the air thick with heat. Though Peter wasn't sure if this was the reason for his inability to breath.

Ned explained to him what he had missed on monday. He nodded along, barely understanding anything. His mind concentrated on anything else again. Everyone talking around them, laughing and hushing each other. So many voices, not one word came through. They all melted into one noise ringing in Peters ears.

The door opened and silence befall the class once again.

"Good morning," Quentin smiled.

But something was off. Peter hadn't noticed it before. His beard has grown out a lot more. Dark bags adorned underneath his eyes. There was no genuinity in the smile, no spark behind the dim blue. He just looked so tired.

For a moment Peter felt bad. He didn't feel any different. Just living the day, pretending to feel happy. Pretending all the smiles and laughter weren't just a mask to hide a twisting pain.

But it was Quentins fault after all, wasn't it?

Peter watched his teacher the whole time. Not once did Quentin look back at him. But his eyes occasionally twitched as if about to glance in the boys direction.

The bell rang and Peter had never packed his bag this quick. He waited outside for his friends, ignoring the way some of the students starred at him. Through the heat scorching under his skin and the overwhelming pain straining every muscle, he felt like he hadn't breathed the whole lesson.

"You okay, bro?" Ned asked as soon as he reached his best friend. Peter starred at him for moment like he wasn't sure what the question was. A moment and then his brain processed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Peter returned, lips curling into a smile. Pretend until everyone believes it. Until he believes it himself.

"I don't know. Something just seems off about you."

As if Ned could actually decide if anything was wrong about his friend. It's not like he had really payed attention since dating Betty. The thought strangled Peter into silence. He couldn't say again what was aching in his heart. Not now.

"Hey Losers, y'all ready for the next lesson?" Michelle greeted, disrupting the conversation from going any further. Ned almost looked disappointed, but was quickly distracted by his girlfriend again. It must be so easy to not care.

Later that day, they all met in front of the cinema. The crowd wasn't large and luckily, they still got four of the better seats for the movie. Peter couldn't care less. He just came along to distract himself. And to get closer to Michelle. It should be easy to move on.

But it actually turned out to be a good movie. The origin story of just another superhero, but at least it had some good twists and turns. First the heros mentor died and then one of the good guys turned out to be bad. Tropes he had seen before, but executed a lot better in this one.

Peter wondered how he would handle all of this. Technically, it wasn't actually far from his own life. With Bens death and Quentins rejection. He would break if he was that hero. That guy can't just hide in his room and avoid all the responsibility.

Peter can. He can run away. He doesn't have to save the world. All he has to do is not go crazy with all the agony mangling his insides.

"So unrealisitic," Michelle whispered next to him. He looked at her. She looked back.

"A little..." Peter mumbled back, trying to ignore how his stomach twisted.

"No girl would actually put up with having a superhero as a boyfriend."

"Not even you?" He shifted in his seat until his hand brushed Michelles. A sickening sensation bubbled in his throat.

"Well, I'm just saying most girls already worry too much about their boyfriend with normal circumstances. But a boyfriend who has to save the world from a crazy alien? That's a whole other level."

"That wasn't an answer to my question." Peter concentrated on the soft skin pressing against his. Smooth and clean. Her fingers delicate against his. So much different than-

"I could probably put up with it." Something sparked in her eyes. Nothing good. Something more close to uncertainty.

"It could also be fun, depends on what kind of powers the hero has." Peter felt himself leaning in closer, voice nothing more than a hush against Michelles lips. He still remembers the candy taste. Too sweet for him. He preferes it bitter.

"Animals seem to be very popular. I imagine a compeletly absurd animal." However, even with the amusement dripping in her voice, she didn't smile. Instead, the corners of her mouth only dropped lower.

"And what kind of absurd animal?" Peter smiled though. All to convince himself more than anything else.

"Maybe a spider? That would be a stupid hero." Both laughed a little. Someone shushing them from the front pulled them apart. Peter swallowed down the disgusting sensation on his tongue as he melted back into his seat. Michelle went quiet next to him.

Their hands brushed against each other again. Nothing came from it.

All in all, it was a good movie. Although the happy ending was just too much for Peter. He cringed as the two leads pronounced their love and kissed. Not that he hated romance, but right now it all made him feel like throwing up.

Movies made it look so easy. Two people fall in love and they live happily ever after. It was a nice thought. But nothing lasts. People come and go. Time goes by and everything changes again and again and-

"That was so sweet," Betty chirped, holding onto Neds arm as they walked. Her boyfriend agreed with a lot less enthusiasm. She didn't react to it.

"It was fine," Michelle throw in. The blond glanced at her with a smirk.

"Well, you didn't really payed attention anyway..."

They went quiet. Betty looked like a winner and Michelle starred at the ground, seemingly contemplating something. Maybe her friends words, maybe what happened between her and Peter.

He didn't think about it too much. His thoughts were consumed by the cold air as they stepped outside. A deep sigh slipped his tongue, the cooling wind caressing his burning face, his eyes closing with his body relaxing into the sensation. For just a moment he felt like floating away.

"We want to see the new cafe nearby, so we're leaving you two now," Ned informed, pulling Peters attention back into reality. The weight of it dropping on the boys shoulder like bricks.

"Have fun," Michelle called after them, already turning to go into the opposite direction. Most of their way would be the same. He could take the opportunity to confess. 

That's how it should be. A normal teenager couple. Awkward first kisses and bad first dates. They would laugh about it and maybe fall in love just a bit more. Smiling and talking while sitting on a park bench and eating ice cream. The sun would smile down at them and curious strangers would think of their innocent love.

Yes. That's how it should be.

But they only walked in silence. Peter couldn't even force out a goodbye as they stopped at the street where they have to split up.

"It was fun. At least for me," Michelle ended up saying. Another drawn out moment.

"Yeah. For me too." Peter knew she was expecting it. The other question was, did she even want it?

"Michelle-" "Call me MJ." He starred at her in surprise.

"Betty started calling me that when I told her I don't like my name."

Peter wasn't sure why she brought that up now, but he could hear the wavering reluctance. Like she was forcing herself to say something. Almost like she was trying to prolong this conversation before the inevitable.

"MJ, I need to tell you something." 

Her eyebrows dropped, twisting her expression into a frown.

"Don't." Suprisingly, he had expected this response. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew she didn't felt it either.

"I don't want this. We're just forcing ourselves to appease society." Straight forward. Honest. He liked this about her. Still, Peter wasn't sure what to say. All what he had planned in his head, gone. The words stuck in his throat, suffocating him with the knowledge there was no way left to move on.

"Besides, you like Mister Beck."

Peter felt his heart stop. His breath hitched, every inhale short and fast. Every exhale shaky between his lips. The words left him cold, but the warm clawed his back into his flesh until he was burning from inside. With the fire came panic and with the panic the dizziness.

"I don't know what you mean," he croaked, stumbling over his own words. It was all crumbling before him. His masquerade. He wasn't ready. The witches spell not complete. He just needed to speak the lie a few more times and-

"I always suspected it, but after seeing you two in greece..." Her words like lava, melting away what he had build.

"You're in love with him."

It was gone. The magic faded away and the midnight moon was too late. He choked on the words he told himself for too long.

"Oh Peter. It must be hard, being in love with a teacher. But you should just forget about it. It's not going to end well for you or him." As if he didn't know.

"Shut up..." Peter breathed through quivering lips. As if he didn't know it was stupid to confess.

"I know what I said is harsh, but-" "Shut up!"

As if he didn't know it was childish to expect more. But until now he was able to avoid the mirror. It had been too easy to not blame himself. Too easy not to see his own mistakes.

Michelle was silent. There was nothing. Not a blink, not a twitch, not a fleeting glimmer in her eyes. Telling him what he should do with such indifference. Like she knew how it feels. Like she knew the drowning depths and the talon grip holding him there. The swallowing dark and aching emptiness.

"Just shut up." Peter was proud of himself for not yelling, even though that's all he wanted to do. Scream into the night until nothing was left. Yelling out the pain and the sadness and the anger.

Nothing has become better. Nothing has become easier. Even pretending was starting to tire him. He was no superhero though. He can run away from it all. Maybe he will. It would be easy enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good or err, bad news, depends on you; Only two more chapters to go. Altough the last one is going to be more of an epilogue to give this story a real conclusion. I'm gonna be really emotional when I post the epilogue.  
> I sure hope I don't disappoint you guys :'3
> 
> MysterySpider Playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLELOWKYdQXHupCly1SohmsjLUjE-kr75D  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/51LaWZJRTUCbt1cvfVmOO0

MJ tried to call him on saturday. Peter ignored her. After just walking away from her the day before, he just didn't want to know what she had to say. Maybe she was going to apologize. Or she would yell at him for leaving like that.

It didn't matter. He didn't want to hear either of those things. What would it change? Nothing. What happened, happened and Peter wants to forget.

The day went by so slow. Agonizingly slow. May was out with her boyfriend for most of it. He was able to at least enjoy the silence. Or maybe it was just making things worse. Because there was nothing to distract him. Nothing that could occupy his mind. He was left thinking and thinking until the darkest thoughts pushed to the surface.

Peter knew he couldn't keep blaming Quentin for his pain. It wasn't fair. He was the one steping closer and blurring the lines of what a teacher and student should be able to do. He was the one who confessed. Even if Quentin ended up indulging, Peter started this. But he wasn't ready to deal with the consequences.

He wasn't quite ready to look into the mirror. So he decided on running away.

It was easy to pack his bag. Some clothes, cash he had saved over the last few years and some snacks he found in the kitchen. Then he sat there on the ground, starring down at the full bagpack, the zipper between his fingers.

It wasn't that easy after all.

Uncertainty creeped into his head. The realization, how childish he was acting, following close behind. He was just 16! Where would he go? What would he do? His money will only get him so far.

Voices pulled him back. He quickly closed his bagpack and pushed it under the bed. May had come back. With her boyfriend. Their conversations were muffled through the walls, but Peter was sure it was this guy from the other day when-

But there was also a third person.

A knock at the door and Peter was on his feet to open.

"Look who I met outside," May smiled, pointing behind her.

"Hey, bro." For a moment, Peter was excited to Ned. But only for a moment before his thoughts twisted back into everything that was wrong. He just knew he wasn't going to like the conversation that would follow.

"I leave you two alone then!" Pushing Ned closer to the door, she turned and walked off. Her boyfriend whispered something. She laughed. They disappeared into the living room and the last bit of noise dissolved into silence around the two boys.

"Sorry. I should have called or something," Ned said. It all felt so off. Weird. There was something glimmering in his best friends eyes. Worry, maybe, but Peter didn't have to patience to decipher.

"What do you want?" he asked, maybe a little more aggressive than intended. It almost calmed the sudden anger that had started to boil inside him. But not quite.

"Betty told me that Michelle rejected you."

Was it Bettys interpretation or did MJ really tell it like that? Peter wanted to believe it was the first. Though maybe she really was mad after all. Whatever it was, now Ned was standing here, all concerned for his best fucking friend. Like he actually cared. Like he knew anything.

"It's not- MJ didn't reject me, because I don't like her this way." It was harder to admit than he expected. Somewhere deep in the void, that has become his heart, he was still hoping to fall for her. Ask her out. Be a normal teenager. But he knew it will never happen.

Because she was just another person who doesn't care enough. Just another person who will never quite pay attention to anything but his pretend.

"Oh dude, come on. It's fine. I totally get that it sucks to get rejected. If you don't wanna talk about it-" Ned stopped when Peter took a step closer.

"I. Don't. Like. MJ. Not in the way you think." He almost scared himself with how calm he sounded. Like some psychopath in a movie, about to stab someone. Though he definitely felt angry enough to consider the option.

"You shouldn't lie to yourself, Peter. It's obvious you like her," Ned countered, his smile twitching with sudden nervousness.

Peter starred at him, his expression blank. The words swirled in his head, only slowly forming into a coherrent thought. It's obvious, as if Ned knew. So sure of his presumption. Like he actually spend more than five minutes watching Peter smile at MJ.

"Don't fuck with me." His voice just a whisper, fingers twitching with the strain as he curled them against the doors edge.

"You know nothing." Louder. Ned jerked back, face twisting in surprise.

"Since you and Betty got together, you're too busy with her. No, you're just making easy assumptions, because that's all you can do. Because that's what Betty thinks and oh, isn't your perfect little girlfriend always right?"

The words slipped from his tongue too easily. Bottled up for so long, they spilled all over, dirtying what had been clean. This friendship. All good Peter thought he had after Bens death. He was almost scared his fingers will break against the wood, but anything to keep himself from going any further. It was already enough.

"I feel like you don't give a single shit about me! If you did, you would know I don't like MJ. You would have come to our stupid movie night!"

Ned was shaking, mouth agape as he tried to come up with a response.

"If you only cared just a fucking bit, you would have noticed how fucked I've been this entire week." With the words also fell the weight from his heart. At least a little. Enough to stop the aching. Yet, he didn't feel ready to confront this problem any further. He just wanted to be alone again and cry himself to sleep.

It was just easier to avoid everything.

"Peter, I'm sorry! I didn't know-" "Exactly. You didn't know. Now leave."

"No, Peter! Let's talk!" Desperation clung Neds voice, sparking the urge to comply, to say yes. But it stayed a spark. Gone as quick as it came.

"Go. Now."

Ned opened his mouth once more, but no response followed. He dropped his head and turned, twitching as if wanting to try once more. He didn't. Peter watched his friend leave with another kind of pain weighing on his heart again.

A sick sensation clawed at his throat and he almost threw up, if it wasn't for his aunt voice.

"Are you okay?" Another person who acts worried. All concerned and caring.

"Leave me alone." A hand on the door stopped him from closing it.

"I'll go after him. Maybe he needs a ride home," she smiled, lingering just a moment as if waiting for her nephew to stop her. When he didn't, she followed where Ned has left. The sound of her high heels echoed in the hallway just before the door closed again.

"Don't feel bad, boy. Some friends just aren't worth it, speaking from experience." Peter felt his grip on the door ease with the mans words. With faint curiousity distracting his swirling thoughts, he perked up at Mays boyfriend. What was his name again? Dean. Probably.

Dean smiled at him. Honest. Soft. It reminded Peter of-

"You're still young. It's rare that you keep your school friends for longer than a few years," Dean continued as he moved towards the kitchen. Peter followed him. Everything to keep himself from giving in to his anger again.

"And when you're older?" he asked, stopping in the door frame.

"You take what you get. You start to care less who stays, who leaves, who you see on the next drinking night and who you never see again." Dean took a cold beer out the fridge and leaned against the kitchen counter. His green eyes starred intently at the boy. A fleeting hint of more and then the previous honesty soothed the rugged face again.

"Sounds horrible," Peter replied, taking a step closer. He wasn't sure why.

"As I said, you start to care less. That's life. It all comes and goes." Dean placed the bottle behind him on the counter and reached out to pull Peter next to him.

"I learned to enjoy the moment." His voice dropped, melting into something deeper.

What was Peter doing? Every bit of common sense screamed at him to go back into his room, but something held him in place. Frozen by the way Dean was looking down at him. Familiar, yet foreign. Something he knew, but different. Uncanny. Maybe it was the desperation telling him it was exactly what he had seen before.

He ignored how it missed that special something when Dean leaned closer.

"Okay, the boy went home and-"

Mays voice shook him out of his trance and Peter stumbled back, away from the man.

"What are you doing?" The question was for her nephew. Of course. But he had no answer. As much as tried, he couldn't grasp himself what just occured.

"I'm talking to you!" Long fingers wrapped around his arm, pulling until he faced her. The pain of her nails pressing into his flesh left him struggling against the grip.

"I don't know! I don't-" A slap against his cheek silenced him. More pain that seemed to burn itself into his flesh and bone.

"I thought I shouldn't judge you for your little stupid crush on your teacher and now you're making a move on my boyfriend?" Her loud voice rang in his ears, hammering every word into his skull, leaving his head aching. Too much whirled inside him. Too many thoughts. Too many emotions. Only sparingly could he grasp parts from the unrelenting storm.

Pathetic. Desperate. How did everything break like that in just a few weeks? When did it start to crumble? In greece? When he accepted his feelings? When Quentin agreed to being friends? When Peter said those dreadful words?

"You're more rotten than i thought! Get out of my sight!" May pushed him back as she let go of his arm. He could still feel her nails on his skin, the sensation distorting into something sickening. Something that crawled under his skin until he felt it on every inch of his body.

Maybe it already started to fall apart when Ben died. Maybe he was so good at pretending, he forgot how his heart decayed with too much. And now it had reached the limit. Now he just didn't have any more room to contain it.

It spilled until he felt like drowning.

Peter turned and left the kitchen. His throat filled, making him want to vomit. But instead he choked on it all with every breath.

He grabbed his bag. No moment of hesitation. No common sense left, suffocated in the storm that was his mind. It was like following an instinct. The animal told him what to do. Where to go. He followed without question. Followed until he was outside.

For a moment he stilled, allowing the cool air to sooth his scorched face. He was shaking with the sharp cold. With a deep inhale that burned in his lungs, he let his head drop back and fixated on the dusk sky. 

Orange and lilac melting into a blurry mess. Darkening further into a blue the longer he walked.

At a motel, he stopped. The man behind the counter didn't question Peters age. Only a sceptical glance turning understanding at the sight of the boys red eyes.

Peter almost dropped the keys when standing in front of his room. Somehow he managed to get the door open and stumbled in. With the door falling close, all the cold was pushed out with it, leaving Peter with the rooms stuffy heat.

He dropped his bag on the bed and sat down next to it. And everything seemed to crash down at him like a wave.

The world seemed to spin, dissolving into a vortex until darkness swallowed him whole. But Peter couldn't find his lifeboat. His hands only reaching for icy cold water. It clawed and pulled at his limbs until he gave in. He let the water fill his lungs and embraced the abyss.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final two chapter update!  
> My final thoughts will be in the Epilogue notes.

Quentin knew it was breaking Peter. He could see it in the boys eyes. And it wasn't any easier for him either. Heartbreak had never affected him this much. Maybe it was simply the guilt that came with. The guilt of hurting such a poor, innocent boy like this. One, who didn't deserve any of this.

Even in his dreams he felt weighed down by it all. It was difficult to sleep. So he didn't. Having to go to work was just horrible. He seemed to forget every little thing, even went so far to explain the most basic things wrong during lessons. A few students actually asked him if he was okay. He only smiled and said yes.

On Friday, it was hard to ignore Peter. But he couldn't risk doing anything stupid if he looks too long into those deer eyes.

At least he slept more than 2 hours that night. Though he didn't feel any better in the morning. Despite the unrelenting sun burning through the window, he felt cold. The bed felt too big for him alone. Something was missing. He didn't want to think about what.

Leaving bed and going into the kitchen felt like a rehearsed motion. Everyday the same thing. When did he become so indifferent to it all?

Quentin opened the fridge, just starring for a long moment. The icy air creeped up his legs into the rest of his body, making him shiver and close the door again. He should just go out for breakfast. He had no patience doing something himself.

No patience for anything, really. Everything irritated him. The ache in his heart. The cold. How he can't just let go of Peter. Usually, it was so easy to move on. But Peter. He was different. Almost like Quentin was addicted.

And he wasn't sure how to recover. Maybe he didn't want to anyway. Maybe he should go and beg for Peters forgiveness. Kiss him. Tell him how much he loves him. They can make it work. After all, they're both good at pretending.

He just finished getting dressed when the doorbell rang. When he didn't move, the person outside started to knock. Soon banging on the wood while yelling at him to come out. Muffled through the door, he could make out that it was May Parker. For a moment he was worried she found out and was now going to confront him, maybe call the police.

"I know you're home! Open the fucking door," she kept screaming. Quentin quickly stood up, not wanting the neighbours to get curious.

As soon as he opened the door, she stumbled in. Her face was red, her expression almost frantic and instead of the expected anger, there was concern twisting her features. Without saying anything she just pushed past Quentin and peeked into the rooms until the man stopped her.

"Miss Parker, what is going on?" he asked, pulling at her arm just the slightest bit to make her look at him.

"Where is Peter?" she spat back.

"I don't quite understand. What's wrong?" He didn't like this at all. A thought creeped up into his mind. A small voice, telling him everything was wrong.

"Where is Peter?" she just asked again. The worry on her face dissolved into impatience. Quentin dropped his hand from her arm when he felt her shaking, as if she was trying to keep something in.

"I don't know where he is. Why? What happened?" Quentin mimiced her emotion, this voice getting louder. Even without knowing what's going on, he knew he should be worried.

"It's- I don't- Fuck." May straightened her posture and took a deep breath. "Yesterday, I yelled at him. He left and this morning, I got this."

Although most of the shivering has stopped, her grip still seemed unsteady around her phone as she held it up. Quentin starred at the screen. A chat with Peter. His eyes drifted over the last messages, stopping at the newest. The words slowly sank in. Only after the third time he really comprehended them.

'I will never come back. Don't search for me.'

His heart dropped.

"What happened yesterday?" The question just came out without thinking. He couldn't think anyway. The voice screamed now.

"It's a long story. Just," Another deep breath and May staggered back against the wall, "I thought he came to you. I was so sure he would come to you."

"Why?" Everything strained in Quentin, keeping him frozen in place even as the voice kept yelling him to go.

"Peter told me about your relationship. So I thought-" Mays voice dissolved into sharp breathing, shaking through her body and leaving her trembling again. With the back of her hand, she wiped away a few drops of sweat from her flushed face.

"So you have no idea where he is," Quentin stated, knowing it was stupid to ask. She gave a small nod.

"He doesn't answer my calls. Please," She pushed herself off the wall and stepped closer to the man again, "find him."

"Of course." A smile twisted her expression, making Quentin frown. What a hypocritical woman. But was he any better? Presumbly not. He was probably one of the reasons Peter left.  
Something he really needed to change.

"But if I find him, I'll make sure he doesn't have to go back to you." The statement almost faltered Mays relief, but she kept smiling and agreed with a nod. Quentin turned away from her and went to put on his shoes. Behind him, May shifted in her place, itching with more to say. But she kept quiet and only wished him luck.

As phony as it was from her, he probably needs it. So he thanked her for coming to him before grabbing his phone and car keys and storming out. He almost stumbled on the stairs, only barely catching himself on the rails. It didn't slow him down though and he almost feel a few more times before he was finally outside.

Despite the heat starting to crawl under his skin, he still felt so cold.

As he entered his car, he opened his phone and selected Peters number. He had saved every students number during the greece trip and just left the boys, just in case. In case for what? He wasn't sure, but at least now it was useful.

Of course Peter didn't answer.

Quentin started the car, dropping his phone on the passenger seat. Where should he even start? Maybe the park? Then maybe all the stores. Just asking some people if they have seen him could be enough. Hopefully. He will just search the whole city if he had to. Doesn't matter how long it will take.

It was hard ignore the urgency of the situation when worry was telling him all sorts of horror stories about what could have happened to Peter. So many possibilities, so many he didn't want to think about. But it was motivating him with a plan where to look.

Not enough.

No sign. No one who had seen him. And all those fruitless attempts of calling him.

Minutes turned into hours and soon the bright sun was falling into an ocean of dark colors. Quentin watched the purple and orange dance above him through the car window. The parking lot was quiet around him. Only one other car was parked, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. Not even the noises from the streets could keep his mind busy from going into dark places again.

Peter could be anywhere. Quentin couldn't even be sure the boy was still alive. Oh, how much he didn't want to think about that.

And then his phone rang. He never picked up that fast, didn't even leave himself time to look at the caller.

"Hello?" His grip on the steering wheel tightened as nothing but silence followed.

"Peter? Is that you?" He tried, voice careful and soft. Almost scared.

"Yes. Stop calling me so much." 

Despite the harsh words, Quentin only felt relieve when hearing the boys voice. But the bitterness followed soon after. Of course he wasn't happy to hear from Quentin. He can't blame him for that.

"Peter, god. I've been searching for you the entire day. Where are you?"

"None of your business." It almost scared the man how indifferent Peter sounded. An unfamiliar tone from him.

"Peter. Listen. You can't just run away. Tell me-" "I can. I told May not to look for me."

A mixture of anger and desperation mangled Quentins insides, shaking him up with a sickening feeling. There was more to Peters voice. Something he obviously tried to hide.

"And she isn't. I'm looking for you."

"Why?" The word pained Quentin more than anything. He broke every reason Peter had, that made him believe the man cares and the awareness, what an awful human being he is, like a stab in the back. He couldn't even imagine how Peter must feel.

"Please, just tell me where you are and we can talk," Quentin pressed through trembling lips, his hand slipping from the steering wheel as he leaned forward.

"There is nothing to talk about. You made your thoughts very clear."

"Peter, please." As frustration left him shaking, his voice dissolved into nothing but a whisper. The grip around his phone clenched as he worried it might slip from his trembling fingers. His other hand glided through his hair, stilling to claw at the back of his head. With his eyes closed, he faded out the faint noises of cars to just fixate on this little bit emotion in Peters voice.

"I can't blame you for rejecting me. It was stupid from me to confess. But in that moment with you..." Pain was dripping in the apathetic tone, barely there like a leaking faucet, but just as agitating when noticed.

"I felt okay. Like everything bad was gone. It was childish to cling to that serenity."

Quentin let the words sink in, let it melt into his mind like sweet poison. He needed the ill sensation it left, because it was forcing him to finally vomit what he should have said long ago.

"No, no no no. Peter. Nothing is your fault, it was all me. I hurt you and I'm so sorry." Every breath too short, too fast, he felt like choking on it all. Maybe he should. He deserved it.

"Please, tell me where you are, baby. Let me apologize properly."

"No. Don't. I can't take it." The boys words shook with swallowed sobs. "It will only give me hope again."

Quentin could hear the breaking in his voice. A little more and Peter will cry, if he wasn't already. All Quentin wanted was to hold him, wipe away the tears and tell him again how everything is gonna be alright. Kiss away all the sorrow. Tell him-

Just tell him-

"Then let it give you hope."

Silence. Enough that Quentin could hear his heart banging against his chest. Why was it so difficult to say the words? He said them before. But he already knew Peter was different than his previous partners. Something special.

With Peter, it was a different commitment when he says the words.

And after restless nights of thinking and thinking, he was sure that he was ready for it. All to hold and kiss Peter again.

"I love you." Quentin let out a long held breath and leaned back in his seat. All the lights outside suddenly too bright and the noises too loud. But there was no doubt. No regret. He finally said it and it felt right.

"Do you really mean it?" Peters voice had changed. All the indifference has melted into something soft. Hopeful.

"Yes. I love you so much. Please tell me where you are," he swallowed the tremble, "so I can hold you again."

Quentin almost let his phone fall when Peter hung up, all his swirling thoughts coming to a stop. His hand dropped down on his knee and he was left starring at himself in the dark. Was it wrong after all? Was it too late? Had he been so busy self loathing that the chance slipped from his fingers like sand without him even noticing?

No. No no no no. It couldn't. There had been hope in Peters voice. Like he wanted this. Or maybe it had just been a fleeting reaction.

Then his phone lightened up with a message. From Peter. An adress of a motel. Quentin knew that one. It wasn't far. So he hadn't wasted his chance. The excitement rushed through him like adrenaline and he started his car, almost crashing into the other car as he turned.

Stars watched him as he left his car and the night air hit him cold. He hadn't even noticed how heat has began taking over, finally making him feel more again. Underneath his clothes he was sweating and he had to wipe his hands on his pants before he could do anything on his phone. As he approached the man behind the counter, he searched for a photo of Peter, stopping at one they made in greece.

The smile made him swallow. How he hoped to see it again soon.

"Can you tell me what room this boy is in?" Quentin asked, holding up his phone. The man glanced at the picture and then at Quentin, suspicion plaguing the expression.

"Why?" An understandable question.

"I'm his teacher. He ran away from home and his parents are really worried." It wasn't a complete lie, so he actually managed to get it out without stumbling over his words. The man pondered the words for a moment and then gave a nod.

"Room 23."

Any other day, Quentin would have been concerned about how easy the man gave away information, but now all his mind could muster up was Peter. Just Peter. He needed to find him. He was so close.

Room 20. A woman sang behind it. Room 21. Quiet. Room 22. Quiet. Room 23. He stopped. A faint noise of someone moving inside. Quentin took a deep breath and knocked. The movements stilled for a moment and then they came closer.

Peter had barely opened the door when Quentin pushed himself inside the room. There was no time to react to the strong arms draping around his shoulders, pulling him against a familiar body. Broad chest, firm muscles flexing underneath the shirt. A hint of musk and spice filled his nose and the taste of chocolate caught on his tongue when lips clashed against his. A desperate kiss, trying awkwardly to be soft.

Peter didn't mind though.

"Oh god, Peter. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Quentin pulled away and cupped the boys face, thumbs brushing the flushed cheeks. His eyes roamed over every visible bit, searching, coming up fruitless. Good. No sign of a wound or anything else bad.

"I'm fine. Now that you're here," Peter returned, a smile curling his lips. Faint, but it was there and that's all Quentin needed. He pulled him into another kiss, this time careful, sweet. The boy seemed to melt into it, the happy hum vibrating against the mans lips.

This was good. This was all he needed. He couldn't believe he almost let this slip.

"Don't leave me again," Peter whispered as they pulled apart for air.

"I already broke that promise once, I won't do it again," Quentin hushed, pressing their foreheads together and letting his fingers slip into the brown mess of hair. Soft. Everything was so soft about the boy. Pure. Beautiful. Perfect. How did he survive without feeling it?

Peter was truly a strange addiction.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it. I actually finished a story. And it's all thanks to you guys. No word in the world can express how much I love all of you and the support you gave me. I just can't believe it's over. I really did it. It feels so good to finally finish a story. This was an amazing experience.  
> Quentin/Peter is the first ship where I can truly say "This is my OTP." And I already have a lot more fanfiction planned. Both short and long. So, I do hope to see some of you again.  
> Also, I sure hope I didn't disappoint with the ending. Please, leave your thoughts in the comments~
> 
> Lots of love and thank yous (灬ºωº灬)♡♡♡♡♡♡

Peter didn't went to school over the next week. He needed time to really think how to approach Ned and MJ. Wanting to make up was one thing, but actually talking another. Although, they did make progress over text after both started messaging him on Monday after school, asking how he is. He told them he was sick with food poisioning. In school, Quentin was covering him.

There was a lot to do. Peter would lie if he said he wasn't scared, but he bottled up everything for way too long. He finally needed to deal with his inner demons. Next month he would start therapy with a psychiatrist Quentin recommended. Appearently he heard only good things from Miss Tern about him.

Peter did mention he was jealous of Miss Tern, but was assured there was nothing and if it made the boy feel better, Quentin will tell her clearly. For now he said it's fine. It was. Because now he was a 100% sure Quentin wouldn't leave him again.

It was assuring for everything else going on. It helped him get a clear mind on everything. Just because Quentin was there for him.

And the best thing? May agreed to let Peter move in with his now official boyfriend. Well, as official as it can get while hiding the relationship from everyone. But Quentin promised he wouldn't let the fear of being caught get between them again and Peter promised to not leave him alone if anything bad does happens.

Not that the promises were really necessary. Just those 'dreadful' three word were enough to know it's gonna last.

"Is this everything?" Quentin asked, picking up the last box from the desk.

"Yeah, should be," Peter replied and watched the man leave the bedroom with a quick nod.

It was weird, obviously. The room was empty. Nothing to indicate he lived here until now, except maybe the full trash can in the corner. But he didn't hate the feeling it left him with. Not quite relief, but close enough to lift some of the weight on his heart.

He won't miss it, but he wasn't enjoying leaving either.

Though seeing Quentin waiting for him at the apartment door, watching a smile curl his lips and blue shining with glee, was enough reassure him it was the right decision.

A faint noise of a glass bottle stopped him in the hallway and his eyes wandered to the open kitchen.

"Talk to her. I'll leave the door open for you," Quentin said, not waiting for the boys answer before turning and leaving. For a moment Peter pondered the idea. He almost didn't go into the kitchen, but there was still something he just needed to get out.

May was standing at the counter. Dropped shoulders and gaze fixed on the bottle in front of her. She didn't look up when Peter called her name, only took another sip from her filled glass. The red liquid burned on her tongue and for a moment she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Then she turned to look at her nephew.

"Are you done?"

"Yes." All he wanted to say got stuck in his throat. Nothing was ever easy, was it?

"Okay."

Silence. Uncomfortable silence. The air tense with so much both wanted to say.

"I really tried," May broke the silence first. Even with the confusion twisting Peters face, there was this feeble understanding what she was going to say next.

"I always hated your parents. Some rich people who always thought they're better than me and Ben. Obviously, I knew you're just a child and you have nothing to do with that, but...looking at you reminded me how your mother once told me to never have children, the world doesn't need more pest."

It was the first time Peter heard that story. Of course he knew May and her sister, his mother, never really had a great relationship, but that actually shocked him.

"It wasn't right to let an innocent child suffer because of it and as I said, I really tried to love you. Just like Ben did. I just couldn't. It felt like I was going to accept my sister again." Her voice was heavy, dripping with sorrow. She drowned it with another sip of wine. It didn't stop the shaking timbre.

"If I could, I would change the past. I would go back and try harder. I would-" The words melted into a sob and she closed her eyes again. With her free hand, she held herself on the edge of the counter. In her other, the glass was shaking between unstable fingers.

Peter could feel she really meant it. But unlike every other time, her caring actually soothed his mind further this time. Enough to finally make him say what had plagued him for so long.

"I don't hate you, May. I never did, despite all the bad choices you made." He could see her grip tighten around the wine glass. Another sip, her eyes fixated on the bottle again.

"I hope one day, you get help." A pause, May stayed silent, but Peter noticed this spark fleeting across her expression.

"And when you do, I hope we can come back together and try again. Maybe on that day, we can actually, truly tell each other that we're family." Every word made him feel lighter until he was a feather in the wind. Truly freeing to finally tell her all that.

"And on that day," the slightest hint of a smile curled her quivering lips, "Ben will smile down on us from heaven."

"I hope so. Goodbye, May." Peter turned, lingering just a moment longer to hear her goodbye.

As he stepped out the apartment and let the door fall close behind him, he took a deep inhale, indulging how free his lungs felt before releasing. For the first time in forever he felt like he could actually breath.

Quentin was waiting for him in the living room. He sat on the edge of the couch, facing the stacked boxes. They really didn't have a plan yet when it comes to spacing, but the man had hinted he had an idea when they started to carry all of Peters stuff from one apartment to the other.

"I should probably start unpacking before I start procrastinating," Peter laughed as he walked past his boyfriend. Still weird to think. It made him feel all giggly, like some 12 year old girl who has her first crush.

"No need for that," Quentin hummed and with a swift hand on his pants, he stopped the boy. Pulling a little, he swirled him around, also placing his other hand on Peters hips.

"Yeah? Why?"

A smirk curled the mans lips. Suspicion furrowed the others eyebrows, twisting into surprise when Quentin pulled him closer so he was standing between his legs.

"If you don't like the idea, it's fine. Just listen, okay?" Quentin started, gazing into the doe face above with stern intent. The suspicion came back, but Peter nodded in response, placing his hands on the mans shoulders for support.

"I thought about moving into another apartment with you. Mostly, so you don't have to risk seeing your aunt everyday and it would give our new relationship start something special."

Peter couldn't help the laugh. Although he knew that suggestion was serious, it was amusing to him how his boyfriend had thought about it all. But he was right. It would really put a stable on their relationship. Not that they need it, but it's just a nice thought.

"Do I get my own room?" Peter asked, not holding back the grin.

"Mh, you don't wanna share one with me?" Quentin gasped, playfully dramatically as he always liked to be. It elicited another laugh from the boy.

"But that means, when I'm angry at you, you have to sleep on the couch." That left the man pondering for a moment.

"Then I won't make you angry, baby." Peter shook his head, moving his hands to squeeze Quentins face with an unspoken warning. This time, both laughed.

"As long as you don't give us annoying homework, I'm sure you'll be fine." With that, he leaned down to place a quick kiss on Quentins lips. But the man didn't let him go that easily. Quick hands slipped into the brown mess of hair and a moment later, Peter was melting into a much longer kiss. All cotton candy and less chocolate. Maybe he did like the sweet flavor.

The one thing he was sure of though, was that movies didn't lie after all. Happy endings exists and a true love kiss can wake you up from any nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT! Phase 3 is gonna be a sequel.


End file.
